Meanwhile, back in the Master's TARDIS.....Part 12

The Never Ending Quest - Episode 8242

"Uh, sir-r-r......" Sir Tisbitt stammers nervously as he pauses. "The rest is has many episode recordings taken directly........."

"Don't worry, Tisbitt," Rule 1 says kindly, giving Agent 1 a warning glance to remind him to not scare the nervous ghost. "Just read what you have......"

"Yessir!" Tisbitt nods quickly. "Volume 3......."

After a brief intermission where we see the ghostly necromancer Belboz is busily applying his powers to clear out yet another necropolis of their ghostly inhabitants by burning their ghostly remains (and freeing them to go into the Here After. We see that while ghosts see many things....there are strictures on them that prevents them from telling EVERYTHING that they have seen and know to their living counterparts. In other words, though the undead mage and the ghostly knight known as Sir Tisbitt know much....they can't tell Fred and the others what is developing between the Orcen Lord Sithe and the Dwarven Clan Elder Ballok.

A plot is in the works for the kidnapping of Astra 4 and her children. They are to be as a bargaining chip so that the dwarves can dictate terms to the Queen of Aqualraia (else Astra 4's and the children's lives are forfeit).

Arrangements are made for a small group of dwarves to sneak into the camp of Fred 4's settlers (since we know that Orcs aren't made for stealth).

Now we switch views to a few months before on yet another parallel. There is yet another analog Fred here out to kill a Dragon of the Southern Caverns, but this Fred isn't......very bright. He gets as far as the cavern entrance and enters, only to soon come across his world's version of Belboz the Necromancer. The mage is studying a spell book and says he'll help Fred as soon as he finishes up with studying his magical tome. Problem is, though this Fred has a healthy suspicion of magic and mages since his brother Charles killed himself in an insane quest to join with the flames, he doesn't have enough sense to not read what Belboz is reading aloud.

Belboz is horrified, for the spell Fred read is a shape change spell! Fred is using no controlling ingredients...nothing at all to shape the way the spell will effect him. The mage is too late in his attempt to stop Fred, for Fred grows to twice his normal size...and growing. Fred passes out from the pain of transformation, and soon awakens to find the disgusted mage left a note saying this:

Dear fool,

By now you've awoken and noticed that a few things have changed. I probably would have stayed to help you, but I have no patients for people like you! What in the name of all that you consider holy where you thinking?!

Anyway, good luck with getting anyone to believe who you really are. You don't even look or sound like anything you did before. I suggest you go and join the local Herd, because I rather doubt anyone can help you reverse such an uncontrolled transformation!

Belboz

Fred fins that he's been transformed into a centaur, and is appalled. If he's stuck like this for the rest of his life, his live in the human centric land of Allaria is over! Quickly, he gathers up the equipment and weaponry that is laying about, only to black out on the way out of the caverns. A few months later, he awakens to find himself galloping away a ravening band of orcs. Fred doesn't know it, but he's been magically teleported to Terra Prime....in what now is the abandoned lands of Allaria. Not knowing how he got there, he tries to figure it out...and is alarmed by all this when he blacks out again. The next time the flash back to consciousness is not as strong or as long as last time.

It is night time, and the young centaurs is cooking something he failed to remember hunting and killing. Fred then sees the massive building he's by...and is appalled to see the half melted ruins of Terra Prime's Castle D'Honaire.

"What in the name of God happened to Castle D'Honaire!?!" he bellowed to nobody in particular. Fred is unaware that this isn't HIS home, but a copy.

Be that as it may, he says no more, since yet another blackout has occurred.

Now the wild transformation spell that changed human knight to centaur did more than just that. It also put a second personality inside Fred, a young Centaur stallion by the name of Ravenmane. The young centaur, unaware of his origins and desperate for answers, lets his instinctive knowledge garnered from the dense Fred guide him to the ruins of Castle D'Honaire. At first feeling like he's come home, the happy centaur sets up camp...only to suffer from yet another annoying blackout (Fred coming forth). After that, Ravenmane finds that this place isn't home. So, the centaur makes plans on heading out yet again on a quest to find answers to who he is and where he came from....and to join a Centaur Herd as soon as possible (all centaurs belong to Herds....it's an instinctive social need). So while out hunting he's gone for a long while as the wagon convey of Fred 4's groups pulls up and stars to set up for business. Fred 4 had planned on eventually rebuilding Castle D'Honaire, and was hopeful that his group could use the land of his home as a good starting off point in creating a new colony. While the others are taking care of business, Synizn answers a call from nature, and shifts into fox form to....relieve himself.

RavenMane mistakes Synizn as an ordinary fox, and tries to kill him for food. The magical spell around the demifox deflects the arrow. Synizn quickly transforms back to his humanoid form, and magically ensnares the shocked centaur.

He takes the centaur to a building, and both he and Fred go about trying to figure out what the centaurs intentions were. They soon discover the strange nature of the centaur after a long magical examination.

Fred is appalled and embarrassed at what his idiot twin did, but doesn't wish him to fade away into oblivion....for that is what the other Fred doing. His spirit's link to his altered body is fading and....alas....there is nothing that Synizn nor Fred can do for it. Now the only person inside the centaurs mind and body is Ravenmane. Fred is about to free the spellbound Centaur when a messenger of his group runs in and tells him that somebody has kidnapped his wife and children. The look on Fred 4's and Synizn's face is terrible to behold, and all who see it know that whoever has done such a crime...is going to have Hell to pay for it!

And from the smell of it...it's going to be some dwarves!

Meanwhile, Astra is being taken along by her captors. She had opened the door to her hut on the assumption that it was somebody asking for yet another bit of advice form her or her husband (who'd been with that poor centaur since sundown). She regrets only having been armed with a dagger instead of a pistol, for at least she'd have been able to fight the dwarves with a gun! A dagger against heavily armed dwarves (armed with nasty swords....quiet and deadly)....is a stupid idea. She soon is forced into a wagon with her brood and is surprised to see an Orcen Shaman join the dwarven kidnappers and cast a spell on the entire group. The spell will make tracking her and the group down VERY difficult.

Meanwhile, on another part of Terra Prime, we see a group of dwarves gathered together......

It's a meeting arranged by the Military to broker a peace between the Dragons and Dwarves. The Military would rather that the dwarves make peace, so the Military isn't dragged into a grudge match between the two races (the Militayr would feel honor bound to aid the dragons....since the Military still feels guilt ridden for the horrible thing that had been done by them to the Dragons). Basically, the Military doesn't have time for the pain, so they were all happy about a proposal by Malachi Dronocis for the dragons to pay reparations for damages done to dwarves by returning the treasures stolen by the now dead Council of Wyrms. All was looking to be going as planned until the most xenophobic leader of the human hating clan of Ballok speaks out.

Ballok had attended this meet in the hopes to upstaging Tarin Gazin, who he felt was an embarrassment to the race of dwarves. Tarin had been banished from his Clan originally for possessing a magical talent. Tarrin had gained GREAT favor in the eyes of other dwarves by his contributions to the Art of Metallurgy, and Ballok didn't like the policies that Tarin endorsed. Ballok wanted to cleanse Terra of humanity and make the race of Dwarves supreme. Tarin wanted to cooperate with the other races, for he felt that that was the best thing for his race.

Ballok was going to upstage the meeting by showing his newest creation, the gun and rifle, in an effort to sway the hearts and minds of his fellow dwarves to his cause.

But things didn't go as he'd hoped....let's just say.

The Forge had spoken!

Here's what happened!

And as the journey continues, we have a flashback to something.....

Something earthshattering!

Tarin Gazin gapes at the pile of gold and gems that the Military Major had casually dumped by upending the trunk onto the ground...along with the vast pile from TEN dragon Hoards. A dragon crushed beneath the overwhelming force of the angered Military, who had been fooled into believing that all of dragonkind was guilty of the attempted genocide of Terra's human population.

"..THIS is what he meant by reparations paid by the Dragons?!" whispers a white whiskered dwarven elder, still awed at the sight before him. "Could it be?.."

Could the rumors of the defeat suffered by Dragonkind be true? is the question running through almost all the assembled.

"Yes governors," the Military officer - a lady says in an almost Anglish (but not ) twang. "When we...had our rather unfortunate misunderstanding with the Dragons, we...er.. freed some of them of the need of gold."

The need for gold to keep them strong and LIVING, Tarin qualifies to himself, wincing slightly.

"We were able to...appeal to the Dragon's senses that perhaps reparations Two words have run together here... would be in order," the lady continued. "Now, this is just a small sampling of what the Dragons offer in reparations"

"Oh reeealllyyy?" a droll, sneering voice says from the back. A snarling dwarf with hate in his eyes steps forward. Balok storms forward as the dwarven crowd of Dwarven leaders part for him. "What is to say that we just take this treasure...and STILL finish them off?"

He begins to laugh scornfully, but cuts out halfway when he notices that the faces around him don't have the look he was...expecting. They aren't ready to welcome their long enemies, the one's that nearly drove them to extinction. However, there was a look in their eyes that...said that they weren't going to just right out of hand, reject the offered gold, either.

There is one constant in almost all of dwarvenkind... Tarin ruefully acknowledges to himself.

His jaw, along with the others, drop again. This time in utter shock as six strangely clad dwarves...the survivors of Camp Underhill, come into the meeting area carrying a large holy item. The human female officer smiles as all dwarves go down upon their knees, and she also bows her head.in respect if nothing else towards the pinnacle of dwarven metallurgy...One of the Eight Artifacts! In this case, the Sword.

The lady laughs silently at the rapturous look of awe and religious ecstasy upon each and every face of the crowd , including those of her "boot camp" division. Nonhuman in mind as a dwarf was, there still was something VERY understandable about them at the core of it all...if one was willing to try. Just as the six survivors she had personally (and now proudly admitted to those who asked) "pushed" through Camp Underhill . She had known that if she was able to keep at it long enough, she could win through the preconceptions and bigotry of her charges. Underneath it all, the dwarf was a warrior who admired anyone who could beat him or her in a straight fight. It had taken a few deaths (services to the dwarven gene pool...ridding it of faulty genetic material). It took a few.lessons..that broke permanently several dwarven spirits (once a dwarf's fighting spirit was broken...all that was left was a whimpering shell that pissed itself every time it heard a loud noise). Finally, in a flash the dwarves had learned that she and the others of the Military.at least (and the rest of humanity), could meet and match the dwarves in the skills of melee....of fighting.

Like the school bully who suddenly becomes very accommodating and friendly to the person who whips him, so to did her survivors.

When she'd shown them, and asked them to carry in this last piece of her...argument for peace with the draconian race...their deferential treatment of the Military had grown downright worshipful!

This would be a sure clincher for this deal! It was said amongst the Dwarves, if the gold was enough, could be talked into forgiving the very race that had almost laid them low. It had been a jest, but there was more than a kernel of truth to that. With the return of a lost relic, it would tilt the vote in the Military's favor...and the hatred between Dragon and Dwarf would at last be done!

It would stop a potential headache for the Military by stopping something of a religious jihad by the dwarves!

Religion, the oldest con! the woman laughed to herself, before a shaft of light fell upon her!

In a slow, thunderous voice, she spoke! Or rather, Something spoke through her

"AND SO IT WAS FORETOLD THAT A MESSENGER WOULD DELIVER ONTO THE FOLLOWER THAT WHICH HAD BEEN TAKEN," the Voice bellows forth from the human. "KNOW ALSO, THROUGH THE TRUE PROPHECY LOST WITHIN THE SEA OF TIME.UNTIL NOW . THE MESSANGER WOULD BE OF A PEOPLE THAT WOULD FIRST TEACH THE HOST OF DWARVES SUPERIOR METHODS OF THE ARTE OF METALLURGY . . . . .BUT WOULD WITHOLD THE NEXT LEVEL! THEN , AS A SIGN OF THINGS TO COME..OF THE PINACLE OF THE ARTE." Gasps of shock whisper throughout the assembled as Lt. Diana Walker draws her Military issue, vacuum forged multi-metal alloyed combat knife...and shaves a thin wire off One of the holiest of Dwarven Holies!!

"BLASPHEMY!!" screamed Balok, keeper of the oldest recorded texts of the Messanger. "'Tis to be a Dwarf...the one true People who is to be the Messanger ."

A deep, terrible laughter emanates from the woman before the dwarves, causing even the stoutest of heart to tremble in fear.

"NAY..'TIS ONLY DWARVEN ARROGANCE SUCH AS THOU'S WHO MADE YOUR RELIGIOUS TEACHINGS READ THUS!" the Voice booms out in the Old tongue. "DWARVES WERE TO BE THE TEACHERS OF THE ARTE.TO SHARE WITH ALL THE OTHERS EQUALLY!! ALL WERE TO BE EQUALS UNDER THE TEACHINGS AND ARTES FROM THE FORGE! TARIN GAZIN KNEW THIS IN HIS HEART..IF NOT WITH HIS MIND.AND THUS STARTED DWARVENKIND ON THE TRUE PATH WITH HIS PACT WITH THE HUMANS, BOTH TERRAN AND GOLEM. "

Tarin Gazin feels flustered as a wild mix of pride, awe, and amazement at the very god that he has linked his life to has named him as some kind of savior to his race.

And to think I nearly talked myself out of letting her come! he gibbers to himself

"I call for the Duel!" screams Balok, enraged beyond rational thought. "You aren't Kangester, the Forge!! Truth will be shown by the victor!"

Balok was positively allergic to magic. The woman gave off a particular.odor.but nothing that was indicative of hostile human (or draconian) magery!

"Perhaps.." the Voice says in a amused voice. "But by the laws of Dwarven Combat, I get to chose the weapon type! I chose Pistols. Mine.against the revolver you were going to show in an attempt to upstage Tarin in this meeting!!"

Balok blinked, momentarily not so confident in his actions, then firmed. His resentment at the sudden pull and prestige of Tarin..an embarrassment to the Dwarven race because of his weakling ability to glimpse into the future. Even the newest techniques to metallurgy he gifted the People shouldn't be enough for letting him back in!

"Father! Let me take her, for I'm the best at the new Weapons!" his only son said with manifest pride. Again, fear struck Balok, but now he risked loosing face if he backed down...and his son was the best of his Clan. No, this impostor didn't stand a chance

No mere human stood a chance against his son! He was as swift as a striking snake (and twice as ruthless in battle).

And so Terra was witness to it's first gunfight, shades of the American West of our Earth.

The young dwarf's holster was more like the 20th century military soldier than that of a gunfighter, but it served the young dwarf's ego. For he was swift with his gun...compared to his other dwarven friends.

Walker's holster rig was almost a mirror image of the gunfighter of old. Only her holster was that of synthetic material, not leather. Due to the nature of what an Alliance soldier faced, the design had to allow for ease of access to one's gun. Those who lived for long in the Military were by needs....swift.

That was the environment that the Military soldier lived within until the end of the Enemy/Alliance war!

And so they face each other...and.

zip. zip.

That's all the sound Walker's energy pistol makes.

Alliance man portable weapons like plasma rifle and energy pistol are quiet things by nature (all the better for snipping you...dearie!)..and thus the young dwarf suddenly is surprised to find a blazing wound ..before he drops his revolver and dies.

Balok screams in anguish as his son falls to the ground, and struggles to reach out to strangle the woman who had killed that of his blood.

A pile of desperate dwarves are holding him back, fearing how the maddened dwarf would anger the Forge by soiling his (her?) chosen avatar with his touch.

"A curse on you...a curse on your family...a curse on your Clan.." the Forge said through Walker as she gently caressed the enraged dwarfs face. "Go..Cursed one! Go and join the kinfolk you have allied yourself with! Go and become one of them. Ye shall keep your skills...but will suffer as you watch proceeding spawning lots of orclets degenerate into the uncouth...ill mannered and dull folk you laughed at even as you joined in alliance.

The image of Balok grows stiff as the dwarves suddenly jump away in disgust as....the xenophobic dwarf begins to mutate into a...very familiar...and very hated racial enemy!

Stomachs churn in the realization that Orcs aren't a failed attempt of a dark god at creating elves (questionable pursuit in the heart of many dwarves)...but the result of a curse upon Dwarven Clans blighted by their god.

179 chuckles softly to himself, rather enjoying that assignment from the Higher Ups. He only regrets having to making the SOB vanish back to his now Orcen Clan...instead of letting the other shocked dwarves kill him.

179 listens to the babble of confusion as Diane Walker suddenly comes "out of it" and demands to be told what just happened.. The Rule then shrugs, and heads back for his Office...and the endless Paperwork. Meanwhile, back on Terra..

Astra 4 blinks and then rubs her eyes. It makes no difference. The oil lamp hanging from the roof of the wagon gives only a dim light, but there is no doubt about it: the dwarf sitting opposite her is rapidly transforming into an orc. The dwarf himself seems unaware of the change as yet.

Astra runs through the possibilities in her mind. The apparent change in the dwarf could conceivably be merely an illusion caused by some spell cast on Astra herself. But what could the purpose of such a spell possibly be? She assesses that possibility as being highly unlikely. The alternative is that the change is for real. She had not thought that, since the Crystallics ceased to function, there was any magic left on Terra that was powerful enough to do something like this. Could someone have somehow found a way of "recharging" the Crystallics? However it was done, whoever is responsible must have a rather malicious sense of humour, she thinks, given the traditional hatred of dwarves for orcs. It would certainly seem that the spellcaster is not on the side of her captors. But I can't assume from that that whoever it is will necessarily be on my side, Astra thinks.

The possibility of the change just being an illusion is removed when Astra hears cries of dismay and horror coming from outside the wagon. She realises that the other dwarves must have been transformed as well. Whoever did this must be even more powerful than she had first thought. The former dwarf who is guarding her gets to his feet, so that he can stick his head out of the wagon and investigate. For the first time he sees his new body, and lets out a terrible howl of anguish.

Astra realises that what has occurred is not necessarily good news for her. Being in the hands of dwarves would be bad enough, but being the prisoner of these newly created orcs could be even worse.

Frustrated, Astra stays where she is, though she feels that this would be a perfect time to attempt an escape. She could easily escape and evade capture while these new Orcs are bemoaning their fate....but she can't well do that without leaving behind her children....and she is NOT going to do THAT.

Instead, she watches what develops between the orc shaman, and the new orcs. There seems to be a lot of shouting....screaming....and general hostility! However, it's in Orc....a language that is a derivative of the common trade tongue.....and she can follow it after a fashion. She watches what is happening, and nods.

"Hmm," she mutters to herself. "Perhaps if I bide my time....encourage certain feelings...? I might be able to escape with my children...and live to see another day."

Aqualarian Rangers as well as Amazonian warriors in general are taught that the best time to attempt escape is the time between the moment of capture and the time one arrives at the ultimate destination that your captors wish to bring you. The same lesson was pounded into the head of American military men who fought in a place called Vietnam. The heart of it is a captor does NOT expect you to make an escape attempt so soon after capture....and this is one of your few advantages.

Goodness knows that Astra could use a few!


The former dwarves give off one last cry of dismay as the final part of their transformation strikes. They groan and squirm as their still compact bodies expand and grow into the final shape of the disgusting humanoid race known as the Orc. Warts cover green faces and knobby, ham hands. Thick and lustrous beards fall out, leaving nothing behind but bare skin on malformed....lopsided faces. Bodies that stood at around four foot nothing enlarge and turn into hulking brutes that are a bit over six feet tall...and more built along the lines of knuckle dragging Neanderthals than anything else. Dwarven equipment, probably the best Terra can offer.....alter and mist in and out of existence. When the mist finally clears, the armor is still dwarven...but there are decided...orcen decorations and fetishes on it (small skulls of animals....chicken bones...etc). Now the new orcs look totally like their allies/brothers in body as well as dress!

Needless to say, the dwarves were less than thrilled with the whole deal, and they turned as one towards the orc shaman with a growl.

"Change us back," Thorin, leader of what had been the dwarven kidnappers. "Change us back you green piece of garbage....or by the.....the....."

Thorin was dismayed to find that what his mind had sent out as dwarven to his lips.....what had emerged was Orcish (which was actually good....considering that Dwarf sounded terrible coming from a mouth fomred into something like the muzzle of a boar....with tusks thrusting out of the lower jaw).

Thorin also found it impossible to say the name....even THINK the name of the patron god of the dwarven race!

Rage flashes and boils over, and Thorin succumbs to the horrible temper that all orcs possess! Without thought of consequence....Thrin screams and slams his sword through the surprised shaman's black heart...instantly killing the orcen high priest.

"Thorin...what should we?" asks one of his companions....afraid and lost.

"Don't just stand their you dumb #$^!#@," Thorin growls....feeling the wild impulses of the new orcen body he wears. "We've....had a bad time of it all on this expedition. I say....let's have a little...fun with our guest, eh?"

Thorin makes a little suggesting thrusting motion with his hips, and new orcen hearts race at the thought (for orcs are a randy lot)....

The orcs howl anew, this time in frustration, as they turn back to find....the humans GONE! Gone, and out of sight!

The D'Honaires have had those who have a gift of magic running within their veins. Charles D'Honaire had been the last to have the little something....extra that made him a step above the norm.

So is it with the offspring of the Freds and the Astras.

Charles had an affinity with fire (actually....TOO much of an affinity...considering he was so much of a firebug that he burned himself in a mad quest to become one with the flame).

Due to their unusual....er....circumstances of their conception and what they had originally been conceived as, they have an affinity with canines. Not just vulpine, but ALL canines.

Frankly, it was what one dark mage had feared when he looked forward into the future....and actually was seeing the doings of older versions of the D'Honaire children!

Their power will blossom into a vast and broad array as they grow and blossom through the years. Right now, their first talent manifested VERY early....as the hunting hounds from several parallel worlds will attest.

As will the the LARGE, monstrous wolf - a warg by the name of Elf Death - will attest.

Soft cooing from the little one's reached out, and touch the ears of the orc shaman's mount.

It's a credit to this savage creature that she's able to give off a half curious/half dreadful whimper as the magic enwraps her heart....and transform the vicious wolf....into Astra 4's infant's little.....puddy dog.

The wolf still is as big, strong, and swift as it had been before....but not a trace of the vicious beast that had been there before remains.

And thus the baby's newest furry toy and pet bounds quietly into the back of the wagon (a feat in of itself...considering that the flipppin' thing is large enough for an orc to ride). Thus the wolf gently takes the basket handle with the giggling children within her muzzle, and softly "wroofs" at the shocked Astra 4....

Elf Death "wroofs" again, making a slight tossing motion with her head at her broad and powerful back. A saddle of sorts is upon it, and Astra is still hasn't quiet made up her mind whether to take a chance with the wolf....or call out to the orcs to get this crazy wolf away from her and her children.....when she hears Thorin say: "We've....had a bad time of it all on this expedition. I say....let's have a little...fun with our guest, eh?" she quickly mounts the wolf and bounds out into the night!

She has no idea how to steer this wolf ....nor does the wolf respond to attempts at steering. Astra just knows that she does not want to find out what those lechery filled words meant!


Meanwhile,

Diana Walker cuts the transmission to HQ, still stunned by it all....but she had to do what honor dictated.

She couldn't well play bloody Empress of the Dwarfs and and fulfill her duties as a member of the Military.

The little blighters were in such a state that gods (of who she had a sinking feeling actually....just....might be out there) know how things fell out with her Message and being an Avatar to the Forge....

Tarin had taken her aside and pointed out that if she did accept...that the newly reformed Nation of Dwarves (!)....that by her being the leader....with her religious pull being the one the Forge chose as His (Her?) Avatar......that it would be a chinch that the dwarves would do ANYTHING that she asked.

"Capt, ya said ya wanted the dwarves unda control....so they're unda control!" the Empress sighs, slipping further into the English twang she'd grown up with while living on the streets of London Sector. "Ain't my fault that I havta throw in my commission to do it!"

With the assets that the dwarves had....she could help Aqualria really get up to speed.....faster.

Also, Considering that she had inherited a soft glow to the skin....and the idealized body she had always wanted at age eighteen (along with the cessation of aging....according to Tarin.....a REAL big follower to the ways of the Forge).....she now had need of a....hobby. And what a hobby being Empress would be!

And she knew exactly just how to whip these runts

  1. ...into shape! After all, she might be an Empress....but she was also a Drill Instructor.....

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