The Bridge at Ashairim

Home of Izira Nyte and The Forgotten Layers Inn. Resting in an unnamed magical realm, the place is easier to find when lost if one is without the aid of a map drawn by the lady herself.

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Gren Blockman
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Post by Gren Blockman »

The Paladins muscled their way off the Bridge and down into the streets of the town. Bhasell’s guards had fled in panic, but now Gren saw that the proverbial alarm had been raised, and regiments of troops were now forming up in the narrow streets to thwart their attack. The battle became more difficult as the Paladins tried to push past the wall of spears that impeded their progress. They pressed into a square with a tall church. Fires had broken out and filled the night air with dancing sparks. On the other side of the square, Gren could see Bhasell, surrounded by guards. He was looking right at him with his grey eyes. Zanaro saw it too, and rode over to Gren.

“Gren, I have an idea that might help us. I can tell that Bhasell has some personal issue with you. Perhaps if you were to ride towards the portal you came here from, you would draw him and some of his guards away from us.”

“I don’t want to leave you in the middle of a battle . . . “
“Don’t worry, Gren, you would be helping us greatly. The battle is slowing down due to the street fighting, and we don’t want to lose our momentum. Where is your portal located?”

“It was on the mountain path that led to your cottage.”

“Alright, just go west, out of the city”, Zanaro said, pointing down a narrow alley, “You’ll come out near a smithy. Go straight north for twenty miles until you come to a large lake surrounded by pine trees. Then go northeast for another twenty or so. You’ll see a sheep farm under the shadow of what looks like a triple peaked mountain.”

Gren sighed, then nodded. “If you think its best, I’ll do what you ask. Here.” He handed Zanaro the sword he had pulled from the tree. Zanaro took it, nodding, and strapped it on his back.

“Farewell, Gren. I will give Prince Ronaldo your regards when we have freed our city.”

“Take care of yourself, Zanaro”, Gren said, then smiled and turned his horse down the western alley. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bhasell began shouting orders and waving his guards to follow him west and out of the square.

It looks like it worked, Gren thought. Now if I can just get home.

Weaving down the narrow alley, he appeared next to the smithy on the edge of town like Zanaro said. Wheeling north, he pushed his horse into a gallop to try to put some distance between himself and the city. Throughout the rest of the night, he glanced back at Ashairim, which was burning in places. He stopped to give the horse rest when it needed, and made his way as quickly as he could to the lake surrounded by pine trees. He let the horse drink its fill, then moved northwest towards the looming mountains as the sun began to rise.


Date Unknown +2


Thankfully, Gren found the sheep farm, and the odd shaped mountain with the three peaks. There was a narrow track that wound its way up into the main spur of mountains. Breathing a sigh of relief, he nudged the horse up the path, glancing around to see if he could recognize his surroundings. Flakes of snow blew around in the wind, lifted from the drifts that had been left behind in the last storm.

Now comes the tricky part, he thought. I have to find the exact place where we appeared.

Gren wouldn’t have to look for long. As he rounded a curve on the track, he saw Bhasell standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at him with his grey eyes.
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Gren Blockman
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Post by Gren Blockman »

Gren reined in his horse and stared at the man.

“Leaving without a farewell, Mister Blockman? After all the trouble I went through to arrange this little adventure.” Tsking, he shook his head.

“What happened to Zanaro? And Ronaldo?”

“You don’t get to find out. Our little test is over, Mister Blockman. I’m letting you live out of spite. Spite for the “powers that be” that mocked me when I knew I was right. You will live to fight another day, another day of your hollow, vapid attempts to instill some misbegotten sense of justice and morality in this chaotic multiverse. There is your portal.” Bhasell waved his hand, and a shimmering blue oval of light appeared to the right of him.

Gren dismounted from his horse and walked over to the man. “I want to know what happened to them . . . “

“You will shut your mouth and do as I tell you”, the man’s grey eyes burned with evil. Gren felt an oppressive wave of power wash over him, and he felt himself being pushed towards the portal. “Luckily for you I can’t enter your realm with malice in my heart, or I would end this little charade right here. I suggest you accept my mercy, Knight. Our day will come, don’t you worry about that. Now leave.”

Gren tried to level a steely gaze at Bhasell, but the psychic power he felt was literally shoving him back and sideways. Backpedaling, he was forced within the shimmering oval, and vanished from Ashairim’s realm.

Gren found himself back at the rose bushes in the garden at Forgotten Layers Inn. The horse clopped up to him from the portal and nuzzled his arm. Gren patted the horse, and led him to the stables. Once he had secured the horse in a stall, he looked down at his hands. They were shaking uncontrollably.

“Rough one this time, hmm?” It was Jeremiah. He rounded one of the stalls and leaned against the wall, puffing on his pipe.

“Yeah”, Gren said dumbly. He rubbed his forehead and stared blankly at the hay strewn floor.

“What’s the matter?”

“I . . . was thrown from that other realm. I don’t know if I helped those people or not. They all might be dead.”

Jeremiah was quiet for a moment. “What does your heart tell you?”

Gren closed his eyes and thought. “They’re alright.” He hoped, anyway.
Jeremiah smiled broadly. “Then they must be.” He clapped Gren on the shoulder. “Come. Izira just made a lemon crumb pie. It’s her specialty, you know. I’d like a scoop of that honey flavored ice cream, myself.”

Gren managed a shaky smile for Jeremiah, and followed him from the stables to the Inn. Jeremiah’s words could not dispel the fear in his heart, however. Whether Zanaro and Ronaldo survived, Gren knew he would have to face the Grey-Eyed Man again. Dread clouded his thoughts, as he didn’t know how he could stand up to such an evil, powerful creature.

I’m alive, he thought. At least I’m alive, and at least I have a chance. I can figure something out. I hope. I have to.

“By the way, Izira found out about your Blue Plate Specials. Chicken Fried Chicken?” He gave Gren a quizzical look. Gren smiled in spite of himself.




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