Prologue

THE LEGEND OF GEORDUS WORDWEAVOR

    Geordus Wordweavor, like most gnomes who engage in scholastic studies, had never intended to become an adventurer.  As the scholarly son of a humble Scribe, Geordus might well have spent his existence entire in obscure academic pursuits.  He was handsome enough, after a fashion, with a full mane of thick chestnut hair, and tall as well, standing at over thirteen hands high, with a reasonably solid build.  Nor was he afraid of manual labor or hardship.  When he was very young, he would chop and stack the firewood, saving his father the effort.  He was even versed in the musical arts, able to sing and play the lyre, flute and mandolin, thanks to the tutelage of his bardic uncle, Genoem.
  Geordus’ father, Georlak, was a Scribe in good standing.  He often worked for the Counsel of Gudron’ac-tol, keeping the minutes of their meetings.  Geordus mother was a Dwarvin woman from the subterranean city Dugnor-lot’ca.  While gnome/dwarf marriages were uncommon, they were far from unheard of.  As is typical for such unions, the male offspring tend to favor the father, and the female offspring tend to favor the mother.  Geordus, being male, was a gnome like his father.  Geordus mother, Tonnarra, died giving birth to his sister, the dwarfess Tarronna, when he was very young, forcing the gnome to grow up very early.
  Geordus intelligence and fortitude brought many career opportunities his way.  However, he was a true scholar, in every sense of the word.  Bright and inquisitive, he ransacked many a library in search of knowledge.  In time, Geordus became a writer, penning many fanciful tales, many of which became popular among younger readers.  As he grew older, he shifted his focus to more serious pursuits, compiling historical data from diverse sources, and even creating an indexing system now used in all gnomic and dwarfish libraries.  He is best known, perhaps, for his ‘barbarian Tales’ writings in which he chronicled the many feats of the human known as Bloodwolf, as well as a number of other heroes.
  Geordus first emerged from relative obscurity during the time of the Great Siege of Gudron'ac-tol.  A vast and monstrous army of Trolls and ogres under the command of their half-breed leader, the trogre called Skullsmasher, beset the gnomic city.  This brutish army surrounded the beleaguered city, leaving only a few small hidden portals to freedom.  It was impossible to evacuate the great city, but a few brave souls were able to sneak out in search of aid.  Geordus was one of those volunteers who ventured forth in search of allies. Geordus himself was the first to admit that he was terrified to leave, but it was his duty as a citizen to go for help.
  Of the other two volunteers, none know their fate, but despite near overwhelming odds Geordus succeeded in locating the great barbarian hero called Bloodwolf.  Unlike some, he sought aid from humans instead of the dwarves, which was to prove the better choice.  Bloodwolf was a veritable giant compared to the inhabitants of Gudron'ac-tol.  Standing fully two heads higher than even the tallest of gnomes, the barbarian was a striking figure of a human, made all the more impressive standing next to the haggard Geordus, who was half-starved and covered with rags after the ordeal he suffered through in locating the human.  Many believe it was Geordus who impressed the barbarian Champion enough to take up the gnomes cause, though Geordus maintains that the hero would have aided any in distress, of any race, if the cause were just.
  The battle that took place between the barbarian champion and the trogre was well documented by Geordus and now graces many a library, including the elfin library of Molkien, and the human library of Rennibister, as well as the great gnomic library Gudron’sco-bok.  Bloodwolf defeated Skullsmasher, though he suffered great injury while doing so.  When the barbarian had healed, he was richly rewarded in gold, gems and a magnificent stallion called Swifthoof.   Bloodwolf gifted much of his newly acquired wealth back to the families of the slain and injured soldiers of Gudron’ac-tol. To Geordus, the barbarian gifted a number of arrows with tips carved from the dragon V’noms teeth and soaked in the Great Wyrms venom, as well as the means to handle them safely.  Geordus, who was also richly rewarded for recruiting the hero, followed Bloodwolf's example, gifting the lion’s share of his own reward to the soldier’s families as well.
  Bloodwolf went on to perform other, perhaps even greater feats (though in the eyes of the gnomes, no feat would ever surpass his defense of their city).  Geordus, however, had hoped to return to his quiet life of research and studies, facing no greater danger than the inevitable paper cuts from the books and scrolls that were his stock in trade.
  Fate, however, had other plans for him…


Book One

LEAVING GUDRON’AC-TOL


    The season after the great siege of Gudron’ac-tol found the scholar Geordus Wordweavor hard at work in the city’s greatest library, Gudron’sco-bok, doing the work he loved so well...historical research.  Left to his own devices, the young gnome (he was scarcely eighty years old) would stay in the dry, dusty stacks for days on end, venturing forth only to satisfy those needs that all creatures must meet.  It was here that the wise and ancient gnome Gulnor Tomemaster found Geordus, hard at work with quill and parchment.
  “Good reading, Geordus?” came the wispy voice of the elder gnome.  Gulnor Tomemaster had been the High Scribe and Master Librarian of Gudron’sco-bok for well over a century.  To get a personal visit from him usually denoted great importance to whomever he was visiting.
  “Writing, actually, Master,” replied Geordus warily.  “I am relating my observations of the barbarian Gunost Bloodwolf from last year.  I was researching some historical background on the Barbars that I may relate something of their culture, as well,”
  “Ah, yes.  It was you that located that hero and brought him to our aid, was it not?” inquired the aged academician. 
  “Indeed, though he needed little encouragement to come.  I dare say he would have come of his own accord had he learned of The Siege elsewhere.  It struck me that we should expand our section on humans and their culture, so I am putting together all the research we have on them,”
  “An excellent idea, my boy!” said Gulnor. “In fact, I think this is the perfect time for you to go on a fact-finding mission.  The data you collect would be invaluable,”
  “You mean I should leave the library and...” Geordus searched for the right word, “travel?”  He tactfully omitted the word ‘again’.
  “Come, come, my boy!  You were one of the few to brave the wilds last season, and the only one to return with aid during The Siege,” replied the elder gnome. “Surely you wouldn’t mind venturing forth under far less hazardous circumstances?  Besides, it is part of your scholastic training.  Any fool can copy facts from a book, but it takes a special gnome to gather those facts and put them in the books in the first place,”
  A special kind of fool, thought Geordus.  Aloud he said, “I still have many facts to relate from my last sojourn.  I learned much during my association with the barbarian champion.  It may take me a good long while to compile all that I gathered last time!”
  “Last time you were a seeker of heroes.  This time you will be a seeker of facts.  I believe that there was a great deal you missed while focused on a singular mission.  And this time you will be adequately equipped for a journey, not just sneaking out in the middle of the night with naught but the clothes on your back,” stated Gulnor.  “This is a necessary part of your education, Geordus.  And it will be fun!  If I were a hundred and fifty years younger, I would go with you!”
  If you were a hundred and fifty years younger, you would still be ancient, thought the younger gnome.  Gulnor Tomemaster was, in fact over 290 years old, and looked every minute of it.  Bent with age, hair thin and white upon the dome of his head, and a beard flowing down to his knees, Guldar was the very image of an aged academician.  Some say he studied at the feet of the great Yeaughdah, which would make the gnome very old indeed!  Despite his age and infirmities, however, Gulnor still had bright eyes and a keen mind.
  Geordus knew he had no choice.  All scholars had to do field work at least once in order to become academicians at the University of Gudron’ac-tol, and that was Geordus greatest ambition, though he had secretly hoped his last sojourn would have counted as such.  “When am I to depart, Guldar Tomemaster?” asked Geordus, using the gnomic title of respect.
  “One week hence.  That will give you time to finish your writing and prepare for the journey,” smiled the elder gnome. “You will be given some gold for expenses, of course, and maps to help you on you way,”
  “Where am I to go?”
  “Well, in truth, that is up to you.  But I would suggest starting in the Barbarlands, where you met Gunost Bloodwolf,”  ‘Gunost’, pronounced goo’nohst was a title of respect reserved for persons of great accomplishment and/or honor, but who were not of gnomic or dwarfish blood.  Few humans could truthfully claim to possess such a title.   “If you should meet him, again, or people who know of him, you can do a paper on his accomplishments.  Dig up his past.  Was he ever married?  Does he have children?  Grandchildren?  What other great feats has he performed since he left our humble city?  Are there other heroes like him?  These are all-important questions that deserve to be answered!  And I believe you are the best gnome for the job!  However, you may decide to do a study on humans in general.  Our research is surprisingly sparse in that area of study.  Be alert for any opportunity to acquire information of any kind,”
  That was it, then.  Geordus knew a ‘suggestion’ from his master carried the force of law.  The young gnome might be in the field for years, wandering the wild and dangerous Barbarlands, where nomadic tribes of savages were said to roam in search of hapless gnomes on whom they could feast...or so many stories went.  Geordus doubted that was true, of course, and his time with Bloodwolf reinforced his belief.  However, there were numerous other dangers to be wary of.  
  “I can hardly wait,” said the young gnome with a weak smile.
  “That’s the spirit!  We’ll make a first-rate researcher out of you, yet!”

*        *        *
    Geordus dutifully prepared for his expedition over the next few days.  He returned to his apartments and began gathering such items, as he would need for a prolonged journey.  His time searching for aid during The Siege gave him far better insight as to how to prepare for this journey than his previous sojourn, and he still possessed the lethal arrowheads given to him by the hero Gunost Bloodwolf the season before.  The barbarian had also gifted him with a pair of gloves and a small sack, all made from the same coppery hide as his own cloak and quiver.  Without these items, it was impossible to transport the venom-soaked arrowheads, or even affix them to a shaft.  So caustic were the poisons that even dwarfish Iron melted at its touch!  Geordus, though far from an expert in archery, was proficient enough to at least hit a target, even if in a normally non-lethal location, but even a scratch from the venomous arrows would result in a quick and painful death. Even a dragon was vulnerable to these missiles, as the venom had contributed to the destruction of the dragon V’nom the Terrible.
  Bloodwolf had also taught the gnome a great deal about wilderness survival during their journey to Gudron’ac-tol.  Geordus was nearly starved to death when he found the barbarian.  This time he would be well provisioned and armed with knowledge he previously lacked.
  Geordus, resigned to his fate, made arrangements to have his apartment looked after.  Before The Siege, The gnome had lived in a small, two-room flat.  After the Battle of Liberation, Geordus had been richly rewarded for his efforts in returning with the barbarian hero. Though he donated most of his reward to the families of the soldiers from the battle, he still retained substantial funds, and moved to more spacious quarters.  His current abode consisted of four rooms with a bath, all with high ceilings, complete with indoor plumbing, courtesy of dwarfish engineering.  The rooms were intended to be his kitchen, living room, bedroom and study, but this was not readily apparent to the casual observer due to the overwhelming number of books and scrolls stacked on almost every available surface and shelf.  By some miracle of organization, his desk was reserved for his inkwell, quill and stacks of parchment.  Despite the clutter, the gnome readily found the books he elected to take with him on his journey: Tublat’s Beastiary, Gulnor’s Guide to Sophont Cultures, and Melnock’s Medicinal Handbook.  Geordus intended to be well prepared for anything he came across.
  “I wish I could take more books with me,” Geordus said to himself. “No doubt I will be picking up a few things on the road,”
  For his mission, the gnome chose a thick leather armor tunic instead of the heavier scale armor. Metal was heavy and uncomfortable to the scholar, and hampered his movements when he tried to write or play an instrument.
 “Metal armor attracts attention,” decided the gnome. “The leather will be adequate.  It is not like I intend to go out and do battle with dragons and what-not,”  These words would soon come back to haunt him.
  Since Geordus had some skill with a lyre, so he packed it as well.  There may be occasions to play on his journey, he thought.  He possessed little in the way of magic gear: a Bag of Great Volume, which was far larger inside than out; a Ring of Inconspicuousness, which made the wearer less noticeable in the right conditions; a Short Sword of Silvirn Sharpness, which never lost its edge.
  The young gnome packed food, water, ale, clothes, medical kit, books and other useful items into the Bag of Great Volume.  He carefully omitted any sharp objects from the Bag, as any perforation would result in the loss of its magic and, consequently, its contents.  Once packed, he pulled tight the drawstring and the bag became a tenth its original size, allowing Geordus to easily stow it in his backpack.  On the one side of his belt, he bore his short-sword in its scabbard, on the other, his purse, full of gold Midans and various gems.  He also took his bow; his venom poisoned arrows, and a number of un-poisoned arrows for hunting food.  He dared not consume any game brought down with the poisoned arrows.  Thus equipped, the scholar took a last look at his home, then set forth into the world, not for fame and fortune, but for facts and knowledge.
  It was early morning as Geordus made his way to the South Gate of the city; he looked about at the people and buildings he would be leaving behind for the second time.  There were mostly gnomes, of course, as well as a number of dwarves and even a few kobalds.  To Geordus surprise there were even a pair of beggans.  It was a rare occasion for other races to visit the city.  Elves sometimes visited to exchange information, but humans, with one very notable exception, senrats, saurans, and ork-kin were virtually unheard of.  Low ceilings might have something to do with it, thought Geordus with a grin.
  The main part of the city was almost completely underground.  Gnomes, like their dwarfish cousins, prefer a mostly subterranean environment.  In fact, dwarves often assisted in the construction of such cities.  gnomes tended to pursue more intellectual vocations.  Gnome’s there thinkers, dwarves were builders, and kobalds were simple laborers.
  As Geordus walked past the Temple of the Redeemer, he stopped and placed a Bane in the coffer.  The Temple was said to have been founded by a reformed necromancer, and was now an inspiration to Paladins and heroes throughout the land.  Geordus hoped whatever forces favored the temple would look kindly upon him during his travels.  On second thought, Geordus added two more Banes before continuing on his way.
  Geordus decided to stop at a tavern before leaving the city.  There is no point in starting my journey on an empty stomach, thought the Scribe, and besides, it might be my last chance for a real gnome-cooked meal for a good long time.  He took a seat at the bar and ordered a meat pie with a dark ale.  He ate slowly and tried to enjoy the atmosphere of the room.  Like most gnomic taverns, this one was decorated in soft earth tones with colorful murals on the walls.  One mural depicted a number of gnomes in magical research.  Another wall depicted dwarves building something or other.  A much newer mural on a third wall was clearly a representation of the Battle of Liberation.  Geordus studied the mural, noting the representation of Bloodwolf made him even larger than life.  The barbarian’s features were also slightly off.  It took the Scribe a few heartbeats before he realized that the face was almost gnomic in its features.  The slightly modified barbarian was depicted swinging his own severed right arm and attacking the trogre.  The trogre was even more hideous in the mural than he was in life, which was quite a feat for the artist.  In the background the army of gnomes and dwarves were cheerfully hacking away at the opposing ogres and Trolls.
  Geordus was about to look away when he noticed his own likeness.  He was depicted as boldly standing in the open aiming his arrow at nothing in particular.  He looked a good deal healthier in the mural than he had been in fact, half starved and ragged as he was when he returned to the city with Bloodwolf.  The barbarian taught him much about wilderness survival on the way back to Gudron’ac-tol, and was generous in sharing his food, but it was many weeks before Geordus had fully recovered from his ordeal.
  While he was silently critiquing the mural, his order arrived.  Try as he might, he could not relax and enjoy the meal.  He was too anxious about leaving the city, and the mural mildly upset him.  He finished his meal quickly, paid the barmaid, and took his leave.
  At the gate Geordus was recognized by one of the guards.
  “You are the Scribe that brought that big barbarian to Gudron’ac-tol, are you not?” Inquired the guard.
  “Yes,” Geordus answered.  He was often accosted on the streets in this manner, and had become accustomed to the notoriety.
  “I am Gnormond Urthschaekr, a veteran from the Battle of Liberation,” said the guard. “My family and I owe you much for your donation to the soldiers of the Battle,”
  “It is I who am in your debt, sir!” Replied Geordus diplomatically. “You did personal battle where I was far less involved in the actual fighting.  Let us all call the account even,”
  “Your modesty does you credit, good Wordweavor,” returned Gnormond. “Ah…as a matter of form, I must inquire as to your destination,”
  “Research assignment for Gudron’sco-bok.  Part of my training.  I will be exploring the Barbarlands and other areas,”
 “Training?  Your profession is more hazardous than I ever imagined, if departing the safety of the city is part of your ‘training’, especially if it takes you into the Barbarlands!”
  “’Knowledge comes to those who seek it out’, according to Guldar Tomemaster,” retorted Geordus. “May I pass?”
  “With our blessings and well wishings, good Wordweavor.  May your journey be safe and successful,” Replied the guard, but instead of waving Geordus through, he accompanied him outside the gate for a few steps. “I must give you a caution: Beware of the battlefield.  Many have vanished as they passed through it at night,”
  “Indeed?  Do any know the cause?”
  “A night watch was sent out, but never returned.  Our orders are to remain clear of the area after sunset,”
  “Thank you, good Urthschaekr.  Your warning is well taken.  I expect to be long away from that area before nightfall,”

Book Two

GEORDUS FIRST ADVENTURE

  Unknown to the Scribe, a hidden pair of eyes watched his departure from the city gates.  After a few minutes, the owner of the eyes followed the gnome, carefully staying hidden from sight.
  Soon, Wordweavor, soon, thought the hidden figure.


 Geordus had not bothered with a horse.  They were too much trouble on this kind of journey, bound to attract attention.  Geordus wanted to be as low-key as possible.  Even his clothing, while in good repair and serviceable enough, suggested a person of limited means.  This was intentional, as a well-dressed traveler would be set upon by bandits and robbed, while a poorly dressed one would be often ignored.  His Ring of Inconspicuousness would be mostly useless in the wilderness, but of great help in a city.
  Once outside of the gate, Geordus enjoyed a sense of nostalgia.  He had traversed this terrain before, and knew well what to expect.  The trek from the city gates took him through the great battlefield from the Battle of Liberation fought the season before, in less than an hour.  He noticed that there were a large number of bones strewn across the landscape.  It was a grim reminder of the great battle after The Siege, when the gnomic army used the duel distractions of Gunost Bloodwolf’s victory over the trogre, and the rising sun to destroy the evil forces of ogres and Trolls.  The vile corpses were left where they fell as a warning to any others that might attack the great city of Gudron’ac-tol.    
  Something seemed wrong, though.  Geordus looked about, trying to figure out what it was.  After a few minutes, he realized what it was.
  “Where is all the plant growth?” He said aloud to himself. “Even the corpse of a Troll would fertilize the ground,” Geordus looked about for an hour, until he was satisfied that no plants or animals were to be found on the battle site.  Unsettled, he turned to other thoughts.
  No doubt many rogues and Thieves scavenged the remains for any treasure left behind, he considered, that might explain the animals staying away, though it would take a good many people stomping about to keep the grass from growing back.
  After the battle, Geordus recalled, the gnomic Generals ordered the enemy supplies and equipment, as well as any treasure, seized and impounded.  Everything of use was stored away or passed out to whomever would best utilize it.  Any seized treasure was used to pay for reconstruction, as well as special bonuses to the surviving soldiers of the battle, and grants to the families of those soldiers that were severely injured or killed.  As for any wealth possessed by individual ogres or Trolls, no official notice was taken if soldiers looted the bodies in search of “battle souvenirs”, provided the soldiers were discrete.  Those fortunate enough to be off-duty generally conducted such souvenir gathering at night.   
  Geordus had little interest in treasure.  His family, while not wealthy, was very well to do.  Geordus himself was well rewarded for his role in bringing Gunost Bloodwolf to Gudron’ac-tol in its time of need.  Like the barbarian hero, the gnome had given most of his reward to the families of the slain soldiers from the Battle of Liberation, but what remained left him more than comfortable.  His purse was quite full with gold Midans and silver Banes, more than enough to finance his expedition even if he had not been issued expense money.
    As he traversed the battlefield, he recalled the fight between Bloodwolf and Skullsmasher.  Lost in thought, the gnome failed to watch his step and tripped over the skull of an ogre.  He landed face down in a foul-smelling pile of rags that at one time adorned some monster’s nether regions.  Gagging at the stench, Geordus forced himself up to a sitting position next to a skeleton.  In doing so, his hand landed upon a seemingly full purse.  After a few minutes of coughing and shaking his head, the gnome noticed what he was holding.  His first impulse was to throw the vile smelling thing away from him, but gnomes in general, and scholars in particular are a curious lot, so he opened the purse.  Inside were a handful of gold coins, gems, and a folded piece of parchment.  Unfolding revealed the parchment to be a map of the southern region, with a number of marks and scribbles in a strange language.  Now, Geordus, like many of his kind, could read and speak a number of languages: gnomic, dwarfish, elfin, ogrish, orkish, beggan, common, kobald and, most recently, speak barbarish, a language lacking a written form.  These marks were in none of those languages.
  The young scholar emptied the contents of the purse into his own, along with the map, and discarded the ragged thing.  He thought it odd that a scavenging soldier, or at the least, a rogue failed to find the purse and its contents long before him.  Perhaps since such activities were performed at night, allowed for many such purses to be missed in the darkness.  The gnome tested his theory by rummaging through the belongings of a number of the skeletal remains.  In searching twelve such bodies, he found six more purses, as well as a number of other items, such as rings, amulets, daggers and various other trinkets.  The scholar felt no remorse at picking though the remains of the ogres and Trolls, telling himself that they committed far worse offenses in gathering their booty.  Besides, this was research.  Geordus could scarcely believe that even the most inept of rogues would be so incompetent as to miss this much treasure.  Normally, the entire battlefield would be picked clean in a matter of days, yet here an entire season had passed, and there was no sign that thieves been there.
  Or was there?
  Closer examination of many of the skeletons revealed that a surprising number of them were neither Troll nor ogre nor even gnome.  Of course, the bodies of the gnomic soldiers were taken and given proper cremation immediately after the Battle of Liberation.  Moreover, it was these alien skeletons that possessed the greater bulk of booty.  Some of the remains were human, dwarf, senrat and others.  Thieves, perhaps, who were caught here and slain?  But how?  And by what?  Another thing the Scribe noticed was that all the skeletons were completely bare, having no trace of decaying flesh.  Of course, animals and insects could account for much of that, but there were no signs of teeth marks on any of the remains.
  The guards warning came back to him.  Whatever had caused the night watch to vanish must also be attacking Thieves that wander into the old battlefield.  He investigated further in the hopes of determining what it might be.  The cleanliness of the bones, with no sign of teeth marks in evidence was surely significant.  Ants could strip a corpse clean without additional visible trauma to the skeletal remains.  There were also creatures that could dissolve flesh, but leave bone and clothing behind.  That might account for the lack of grass and weeds, as well.
  “O.K.  I know that whatever it is comes out at night and strips bodies clean of all flesh,” Geordus thought aloud. “Ants are not selective about the time of day, and would not be able to bring down a healthy gnome quickly enough to prevent him from returning to the gates of the city and seeking aid,” Geordus considered further.  “Either the victims are killed too quickly to effectively fight back or escape, or they are prevented from escaping as they are slain,”
  Unnoticed by the little scribe, much of the day had passed as he investigated the battlefield.  Finally, unable to satisfy his curiosity, the gnome decided to stop for the night.  He considered going back to the city, as he was still quite close, but elected to make camp nearby.  A brief search produced a large tree at the edge of the battlefield with a considerable hollow-space inside.  There were plants and grass growing around the hollow tree, so Geordus deemed it safe from whatever stalked the battlefield at night.  Though Geordus was a city-dweller, many gnomes make their homes in such trees, and Geordus quickly made himself comfortable.  As a precaution, he slipped on his Ring of Inconspicuousness, and made no fire that night, lest he draw unwanted attention.
  His sword at the ready, he prepared to settle in for the night.  He supped on some of his provisions and camouflaged his position, a skill he learned during his travels to find a champion, and prepared to sleep lightly, with sword in hand.  Thieves, as it was commonly known, could be very bold when there is easy treasure to be had.  There was also the ‘something’ that fed on trespassers leaving only clean bones.    
  Geordus had no real reason to expect rogues to come on this particular night, save that a full moon allowed better night vision without the aid of a torch, which might be seen from a long way off.  Still, an incautious gnome could rapidly become a deceased gnome.
  As the sun set, the moon rose full and bright.  At first, nothing of interest happened.  Geordus slept undisturbed for a few hours.  When the moon had almost reached its highest point, however, a small party of rough beings arrived on the scene.  There came a gnome, a dwarf, a Beggan, a human, an ork-kin and one who appeared to be of elfin blood, all dressed in dark clothing.  They used no torches, as it would have been readily apparent to any casual observer that these were rogues, come to pick through the remains.  Despite the scavengers’ attempts to remain hidden from sight, they failed to keep their voices down.  Clearly, they did not expect anyone to be close enough to hear them.  Geordus awakened by the voices, and a little afraid, despite himself, stealthily took up a position that allowed him full view of all that transpired.
  “This is a bad place for us, Fafnir,” said the gnomic rogue to the large human. “I have heard tales,”
  “Told by old women to scare children, Greyrhatt” replied the large man. “I wager the pickings are good here, and others spread lies to chase off competition,”
  “The tales are told by soldiers,” Countered Greyrhatt. “Soldiers that fought in the Battle of Liberation against ogres and Trolls.  Gnomes may not be known for their military prowess like dwarves and humans, but we were brave enough to battle Skullsmasher's army.  If my cousins in Gudron’ac-tol are uneasy about something, it is with good cause,”
  “Personally, I am surprised my gnomic cousins and Dwarvin brothers made such short work of this monster force,” said the dwarf. “Restores pride in my heritage, it does!”
  “I heard it told that a human from the Barbarlands did in the leader,” said the one of elfish form.
  “Aye, Mallekith.  I heard the same,” said the Beggan. “It must have been a fine sight to behold!”
  “As a former resident of Gudron’ac-tol, I can say with certainty that our military force is quite formidable,” said Greyrhatt.
  “I understand dwarves made no small contribution in the Battle,” said the dwarf.
  “And the barbarian distracted the monsters, allowing the gnomes to get into attack position,” Added the human.
  “Enough chatter.  We’re here for treasure, not gossip,” growled the ork-kin.  He was a particularly fearsome representative of his kind, favoring his human heritage, but just barely.  He was the apparent leader of the motley crew.
  “It isn’t like there is anybody about to hear us, Mug-tak,” said the dwarf as he kicked a Trolls skull.
“Just the same, Todin, I would be away before the night watch is upon us,” replied the leader. “Besides, something got those stories started, and I choose not to take any chances,”
  The chastised rogues worked quickly after that, and soon amassed a considerable amount of loot.  Instead of being pleased, Mug-tak appeared worried.
  “There is too much, here,” Mug-tak said.
  “Surely there is never too much, oh great leader!” said the Beggan. “Only enough for now!”
  “Since when have you ever seen such rich pickings in a battle site a season old?” queried the ork-kin. “In fact, I have yet to see so much booty the day after a slaughter!”
  “This was supposed to be an army of ogres and Trolls, was it not?” asked the dwarf.
  “Aye, that be the tale I heard,” Replied Mug-tak. “What of it?”
  “Many of these skeletons are neither ogre nor Troll,” said Todin. “This one belongs to a senrat, or I’m a dragon,”
  “This one is Beggan,” Added Mallekith. “And here is a Saurian!”
  “These are the skeletons of other rogues, or I’m a Robttt!” declared Todin.
  Geordus could not make out all that the party said, as they began to whisper excitedly among themselves, but he did catch a word here and there.  
  “Zombies!”
  “Zombies don’t leave clean bones behind,”
  “Ghosts!”
  “A trap!” 
  “Cursed ground!”
  “Silence!  I hear something!” growled the ork-kin.
  From his place of concealment, Geordus held his breath.  He could hear nothing; save for the poundings of his own heart, and thought the rogues had heard it, too.  But they looked in every direction, trying to find the source of the noise.  It wasn’t until one of the party screamed in pain that Geordus was able to take a breath again.
  “Something’s got me!” cried out the one called Todin. “It burns!  It burns!”
  The party rushed to the dwarfs’ aid, but could not see anything save for the writhing Todin.  Then the others started yelling
  “It has me, too!”
  “It’s burning me!”
  “I can’t move!”
  “It’s a Slime Ghoul!”
  “We need fire!”
  “I can’t get my tinderbox out!”
  The yells quickly turned to screams as the slime covered their bodies and began to dissolve their flesh.  Geordus, though horribly frightened, hurriedly sifted through his supplies, and retrieved Tublat’s Beastiary.  Quickly rifling pages, Geordus found the section pertaining to Slime Ghouls.  The gnome read furiously, hoping to learn how to kill the creature in time to save at least a few of the rogues.

  Slime Ghoul
Occurrence:  Rare
Group size:  1
State of Existence:  Undead
	Life form:  Plant
     	Intelligence:  Non-sentient
	Diet: Carnivorous/Omnivorous
	Size: Large (variable)
	
     Reanimated form of Creeping Slime.  Subclass of un-dead beast generally created by means of Necromancy.  Like most un-dead creatures, the Slime Ghoul is adverse to direct Sunlight and fire.  Fire only works against such monsters if first doused with oil.  Otherwise, the creature will simply separate itself from the injured areas and continue to attack.  Swords are completely useless, as are spears, daggers, axes, hammers and missile weapons.  Also effective are caustic acids and powerful poisons that break down tissues or fibrous material.

  Geordus skimmed further, but the remaining text dealt with possible origins and preferred habitats of such creature, with cross-references to Creeping Slime and Ghouls.
  The gnome dared not attempt to approach the monster to douse it with his lamp oil lest he become captured.  This left only sunlight, which quickly baked the slime into a soft rock that could easily be destroyed, or a powerful poison.  The Sun was hours away from rising, so there was no help there.  As for poisons…
  Poison!
  As in a dragons venom!  V’nom’s venom was the most caustic poison known!
  The arrowheads!
  Though terrified, Geordus dropped his book and took up his bow, quickly loaded an arrow and left his place of hiding.  He dared not approach the beast to closely, lest he be captured as well, so he moved only close enough to get a good shot. Or so he thought.    Geordus could see that the dwarf was already still and partially consumed, so he let fly an arrow into his chest.  The gnome hoped that the Slime Ghoul would ingest the arrow, along with the corpse, thus poisoning itself.  He sent two more arrows into the ground near the still living rogues, doubting that they could be saved, but trying, nonetheless.  If one of the rogues possessed a talisman of healing, or regeneration, then some might be saved.
  Unnoticed by the gnome, a section of the Slime Ghoul arced behind him and took hold of his left boot.  Geordus started to take a step closer to the screaming rogues only to discover his leg was held fast.  Geordus saw the vile monster slowly flowing up the boot and almost fainted.
  Now is not the time to panic, Geordus thought, the leather will afford me some protection, if only briefly.  Taking another arrow from his quiver, the gnome carefully stabbed at the oozing horror, wary of his own flesh underneath.
  At first, the beast behaved as though nothing had happened.  Geordus began to fear that the Slime was immune to the poisonous arrows, and looked about for something to set fire to, but the creature suddenly began to shake and quiver all about its length, hurling its victims about.  It convulsed for a full three minutes before it collapsed in upon itself and became still. Geordus, thrown back some distance, recovered his feet and approached the slime, now fully visible.  The night and dark clothing of the rogues made it almost impossible to see as it slithered over its prey, but now, under the brightness of the moon, it assumed a putrid greenish hue.  It also stank beyond all description!
  The rogues were all dead; save for the Leader, Mug-tak, and it was clear he had not long to live.  The ork-kin’s body was mostly devoured, and it was obvious from the way his head was positioned, that his neck was broken.
“Who...are you...gnome?” wheezed Mug-tak.
  “I am Geordus Wordweavor of Gudron’ac-tol.  I regret I was unable to help you sooner, but the beast was invisible to me,” said the gnome.
  “As it was to…us, as well.  In truth, we would…have robbed you, had we known…of your presence.  No point…lying about it, since…I am dead, anyway,” The rogue seemed to gather some strength as death approached. “You did try to save…us, though, and I would…reward you for it,”
  “That is hardly necessary.  If it were treasure I sought, the pile of booty you gathered together here would be quite sufficient,”
  “Trinkets!” said Mug-tak. “In my glove is a map…to my hidden cache of loot.  My comrades…and I have been hoarding…it for many years.  This…was to be our last job …before we moved to a new…city and took up positions of…’upstanding citizens’.  I give this map to…you, if you will do…me one favor more,”
  Geordus elected not to point out he could easily take the map without performing any favors, but he nodded affirmation to the rogue’s request.
  “Within reason,” Geordus said cautiously.
  “Burn our bodies, so…none shall know of our coming and…passing.  I was a warrior, once, long…ago, and would not…want this battlefield to be marred by…our undeserving corpses.  It will also…add to the belief that a…monster still haunts this site, allowing…me one last jest on…my Guild-fellows.  Will you do…this for us?” asked Mug-tak.
  “On my honor, I shall.  At first light, I will set the blaze, so none will notice it in the darkness,” replied Geordus. “It will, no doubt, draw attention from the city guards, though,”
  “Fair enough.  Then all that…I have is yours.  Some of our booty…is in a cave a…week’s walk from the city…Etrice, but the lion’s share…is in my townhouse in…the city itself.  The townhouse has…a number of traps…in it, so be careful.  Be a little…selfish with it, and don’t…give all of it away, as…I suspect you might.  You have the stench…of honor and generosity…about you…” With these words, Mug-tak released his final breath.
  Geordus gathered the bodies of the rogues into a pile atop the dead Slime Ghoul and waited for daylight.  It was hard work, as some of the bodies were very large compared to his own size.  He was very careful to keep an eye out, lest there be another Slime Ghoul.  Such creatures were rarely discovered in pairs, but caution was still warranted.
  The morning sun found the gnome gathering twigs and branches and anything else that would burn and placing them on the bodies.  When the barest sliver of the sun was seen on the horizon, Geordus set the blaze.  As the fire grew, the gnome set about gathering up the booty left by the rogues.  This, he placed in the hollow of the tree and covered over it with dirt, branches and a few skeletons.  He would collect it later when he returned from his travels.  He kept some items with him, for study and trade.  There might be magic in some of them, he mused.
  The fire burned most of the morning, attracting the attention of the city guard, which rode out to investigate.  About time they showed up, thought Geordus.
  “Hiya!  What is your business, here, citizen?” demanded the Guard Captain.
  “There was a Slime Ghoul haunting this area.  Last night I killed it, and now I am burning the remains,” Geordus answered.
  “How could you slay a Slime Ghoul without fire?  Had you set one last night, my men would have seen it,” asked the Captain.
  “I used my poison arrows,” Geordus produced a shaft from his quiver. “These tips are coated in the venom of the dragon V’nom, who was slain by Gunost Bloodwolf,”
  “Then you must be the scribe, Geordus Wordweavor, who brought the hero to the city during The Siege!” Geordus nodded. “Guldar Wordweavor!  My apologies!  I never expected to meet you under these circumstances!”
  Guldar was it now, thought Geordus.  Such titles were given to gnomes, by gnomes, out of great respect, much like Gunost was used for non-gnomes held in high esteem.
  “Please, Captain, just call me ‘Geordus’,” replied the humble scholar.  “I dare say Gunost Bloodwolf and the army did the hard work!”
  “As you wish.  I am one of the soldiers who were injured during the Battle of Liberation.  The gifts of gold that you and Gunost Bloodwolf provided us fed our families while we recovered.  I am in your debt, sir!” the Captain bowed low, as did his fellow guardsmen.
  “Nay, good Captain!  Courage such as yours is rare, and even the barbarian hero himself respected it!” Embarrassed, Geordus found himself making a speech, and decided this was not the time or place.  He wanted to keep the Captain from looking too closely at the pyre he had made, lest the guard notice the alien bodies in it.
  “Ah, can you have some men bring barrels of oil from the city?  I would see this battlefield burned clean of any other evil creatures!  If your commander doesn’t object,”
  “Immediately!  I will requisition a new pair of boots for you as well,” replied the Captain.
  Geordus had been too busy to notice the damage to his footgear.  He was uncertain whether the boots were partially consumed by the Slime ghoul, or dissolved by the venom used to kill the beast.  Great care would have to be taken in their removal.
  The Captain commanded two warriors to return to the city and bring back all the oil barrels a platoon of gnomes could carry, and the new boots.  “I will have no trouble justifying this action with your support.  No doubt the Slime Ghoul is responsible for the missing Night Watch,”
  “As well an a number of others, I should think.  I will pen a report for you to take back to your superiors, then!” offered the Scribe.
  “That will be appreciated.  I will make out an additional report in support of yours.  The army is very fond of such paperwork.  I often spend long evenings making out reports in triplicate!” said the Captain.
  “Maybe someday we will have a magical talisman or device that that will duplicate your reports for you,” said Geordus with a smile.  The Captain laughed and went to supervise the work crews burning of the battlefield.
  All the rest of that day, the guards splashed the oil all about the battlefield, while others cleared the surrounding ground as a firebreak.  If any of the guards noticed that some of the skeletons were of dubious origin, they kept their observations to themselves.    
  Geordus, exhausted by the events of the previous night, wrote his report, carefully omitting any mention of Mug-tak and his cronies or the gathered loot hidden in the hollow tree, and then napped against a tree stump while the ever-vigilant Guard Captain oversaw the operation.
  As the sun began to sink low toward the horizon, warriors surrounded the battlefield with lit torches.  When the sun reached its lowest point before disappearing, the Captain gave the signal to set the ground ablaze.  The oil-soaked ground quickly caught fire, and soon the entire battlefield was awash in flame.
  Geordus, pleased that he could keep his promise to Mug-tak, as well as ensure that no other Slime Ghouls haunted the battlefield, smiled to himself.  He was not happy that it was necessary to deceive the Guard Captain about the rogues, but the deception harmed no one, and a dying mans last request was a serious matter in gnomic culture.  He vowed to make an anonymous donation to the Injured warriors Fund when he returned from his travels to make amends for the deception.  When the next morning came again, the gnome made his farewells to the Captain and his soldiers, and promised to bring back tales of his travels.
  
Away from the flaming battlefield, unseen by all, a wrathful being took in the events.  The master will be displeased, thought the hidden stalker.  Slime Ghouls are hard to create and difficult to control.  You will pay for this outrage, Wordweavor.  You will pay in blood…

  Unknown to Geordus at the time, his discarded boots were carefully taken back to the city where they were put on display in the city museum, along with the report he had penned for the Guard Captain.  This was to be the first of many such items to adorn what would one day become the Geordus Wordweavor Wing.
