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As he cautiously walked along the passageway, Mentorn was constantly
glancing from left to right. He couldn't see any more of the ancient
markings, but he knew he was far from safe. The Passage of Vilen had been
fraught with dangers, not least of which, the fact that it was crumbling.
The ancient societies knew how to protect their treasures from the,
opertunist, like himself. They were good, but he was better. Suddenly, he
stopped. There was definitely a shift in the air. He smelled deeply.
 
Almost before he realised what it was they were upon him like a
never-ending swarm. He dived to the side, rolling up to the wall and
covering his head as a colony of bats screached out of the passageway
like a thousand fingers dragging on a blackboard. These creatures could
carry any number of diseases and one bite could mean big trouble. But he
had taken cover in time. The menace passed and once again Mentorn was
able to stand.
 
He dusted himself down. His torch had stayed lit, so he picked it up and
carried on down the passage. Coming to an open chamber, he saw in the
middle a shaft of green-hued light. In the light, on a small pedestal,
was something that looked like a flat piece of wood. To Mentorn, this was
exactly what it was. To the people of the Mugabi, it was something
entirely different. It was Kaither-Matale; the Tablet of Kaither. It was
the first inscription of their most ancient laws. Months of research,
access to the Mugabi archives and weeks of searching had finally revealed
to him the location of Kaither-Chali; the Chamber of Kaither. The
passageways had been well guarded with various mechanisms such as secret
doors, sliding stone blocks and even a pack of wolves. Mentorn, after he
had avoided becoming a wolverine delicacy, he wondered how many
generations of these wild wolves must have had a pack in the area, making
their home underground.
 
Going to the middle of the hall, he became the first man to look upon
Kaither-Matale in around 2000 years. Preserved using a mechanism now
lost, the wooden tablet was in almost perfect condition. He removed it
carefully from its resting place. As he did so, the crash was so loud
that he didn't even need to look. The only entrance had just crumbled
behind him, sealing him in the Chali. He groaned inwardly at his lack of
forethought. The only way out of the Chali now was through the gap in the
roof. It looked barely big enough for a man.
 
He ducked his head sidewards, pulling he rope of his back. Looking at the
roof, he judged it to be around 40 feet higher than his head. After a
slight mishap with his rope (it had worn through and snapped while he was
climbing a cliff-face), he estimated its length at no more than 25 feet.
He attached one end of the rope to his pack and the other to the
three-pronged hook he had stowed. The pack would, hopefully, stop the
rope being dragged too far when he threw it. He discarded what he could
from the pack so it wasn't too heavy to allow the rope to travel. He
tested the pedestal - it could be moved, but barely. Swinging the rope,
faster and faster, he finally hurled it towards the roof, letting go with
a sense of dread. It was well judged, with the hook going over the lip.
He couldn't pull it as it was far above his head, but it did not come
back down. He would have to go for it.
 
He began heaving and pushing at the pedestal. It was moving by
centimeters, but it was moving. He was covered in sweat and his body
protested at the effort, but he pushed. Eventually, the pedestal was in a
plausible position as he collapsed to the floor, breathing deeply with
every muscle in his body craving oxygen. He gathered his breath and stood
up, looking at what was before him.
 
He now had a rope around 15 feet above his highest reach and a run up of
50 feet or so to a pedestal which was about 4 feet short of the rope's
end and 8 feet below it. His body seemed to quail at what he was about to
ask it to do. Slowly, he backed up right to the wall. Placing his right
foot on the wall, he rocked back and forth focusing on the pedestal and
then the rope, pack tied to the end.
 
He ran. He ran as fast as his legs would move and the distance shortened
too quickly. He he neared to pedestal he jumped with a scream and with
the opposite foot, powered off the pedestal. His hand grabbed for the
rope and pack but as his fingertips touch it, he fell. The drop of 15
feet was managable and he hit the ground rolling. As he lay on his back,
looking at the rope, he wondered if he had enough energy for another try.
 
He looked around the Chali. Perhaps he could run around it and then run
up to the pedestal? It might give him a little extra speed that he
needed. He picked himself up and began to run around the room gently,
testing out his limbs. As he rounded the Chali, coming paralled with the
pedestal and rope, he turned and launched himself at the pack. As he
jumped onto and off of the pedestal, he screamed himself higher, reaching
upwards. His fingers caught the handle of the pack and he held on limply,
trying to recover. Soon, he hauled himself up the pack, climbing the rope
until he could use the pack as a seat. He really needed to catch his
breath. He began to climb the rope, going as quickly as he could. As he
looked towards the gap in the roof he could see the rocks wobble under
his weight. He steadied his pace, trying to keep his climbing smooth and
jerk-free. He pulled himself out of the gap and dragged himself free of
the scrub and brush which was covering the gap. He lay on his back, all
effort gone. The crash of the boulders which had held the rope in place
made him very glad to be alive and slightly sorry he had lost his pack.
He patted his chest and the "thunk" told him the tablet was safe.
 
It took him some time to navigate his way back to the Mugabe village. He
was totally lost when he finally had the will to move and also had no
food or water. Eventually, however, he managed to find the Mugabe. They
rushed him to the hut of the tribal elders who greeted him. Seeing his
disarray, they could not hide the disappointment from their faces. When
he revealed the Tablet of Kaither, all of the elders were on their knees
before him. The chief rose and Mentorn handed him the tablet. As
promised, the chief had his payment brought to him. The bag of gold and
precious gems was probably most of what the village had, but Mentorn took
it without remorse. The elders wanted to offer him anything for the
Kaither-Matale and he would take what he could get. Reminding the chief
of the other part of the bargain, he left to go to the washing stream,
cleaned up and then went back to his hut.
 
Soon the chief's daughter arrived, dressed in a traditional silk robe.
She looked apprehensive and perhaps even afraid. Mentorn had no qualms
about making the woman part of the bargain. He did not want to keep her,
only to take her tonight. He was confident she would enjoy the experience
and if she didn't... well, he would live with it, somehow. He beckoned
her to him and as she came near, she cast off her robe. This was going to
be a most enjoyable evening...
 
<<Some time later, perhaps even years>>
 
As he paddled his small canoe along the Mare River, Mentorn looked at the
surrounding landscape. The savanna was lush and green, unlike the dry and
arid landscape which surrounded this region. The water softly bubbling
against the bottom of the canoe was soothing. He continued to paddle,
looking at the lush landscape. Although he was travelling light, with
only one pack, he was carrying enough precious gems and metals to have
his throat slit 20 times over. Even more had been made safe in this
region before he had acquired the canoe. On his right, he saw something
he had been looking for. A dragon, large and blue, swirling over the
hills. That was the place then - Cleft.
 
He pulled over to the bank and hoisted the canoe on to it. It would be a
fair hike through the savanna until he came upon the Warren, but he would
make it with plenty of daylight to spare.
 
...
 
As he approached what seemed to be the center of the Warren, Mentorn came
along a small green expanse. To his left, he could see a large cave and
round to the right, on the left hand side, there were many caves in the
hillside. It did not take long before he was approached by one of the
Warrenfolk.
 
"You are a stranger here," she said. "What do you want?"
 
"I am looking for some hospitality," he said, with the almost
imperceptible emphasis on the last word. "I am a weary traveller who
requires food and lodging for the night. I have little money, but I can
pay my own way."
 
"We are not overly welcoming to strangers at the moment, we have enough
problems without others bringing theirs."
 
"I bring nothing except what I carry on my back, my fair lady, and I can
assure you that I would never cause a wrinkle on your perfect brow."
 
Blushing slightly, Mentorn extended his hand, took the one which was now
offered, and kissed its back lightly.
 
"My name is no secret, it is Mentorn. I doubt you have heard it before,
though perhaps you may wish to here it again, I hope."
 
With more blushing, the young woman managed to stammer that he would
require to see the WarrenLady.
 
"You are not she? Surely no one here could be more lady-like than you?
But lead the way, my sweet, and tell me all about your wonderful Warren."
 
As Mentorn walked with the attractive woman, she told him many of the
Warren's problems, especially those revolving around Wraiths. She chatted
to him like she'd known him for years.
 
<Tag! Anyone want to be Mentorn's first charm-ee?>
 
So, they came to WarrenLady Cynthia's office and yet another attractive
woman awaited him. How wonderful it must be to live in a place ruled by
women so beautiful! After lowering his pack, he bowed low.
 
"I am at your service, my Lady Cynthia."
 
The other woman introduced him and started chatting away about the small
part of his life he had told her, yammering away like a schoolgirl.
 
"Thank you, but I think I can speak with our guest without an
interpreter."
 
She seemed to be looking at him rather intently, searching. She certainly
had a penetrating glance and almost seemed to be looking around him.
Asking him to relate a little of himself, Mentorn told her he was a
traveller who earned his living as he went and had money for food and
board.
 
"That will not be necessary. You may stay here for the time being. Have a
look around the Warren and see what you think of it. The only warning is
that you should not enter the hatching caves - the Queen may give you a
roasting!!"
 
Sharing a smile, Mentorn replied, "Now we wouldn't want that, my Lady,
would we? Perhaps someone could show me a place to camp?"
 
"I'm sure we can do better than that. You may use one of the guest
apartments and I'm sure I'll see you around soon."
 
<Tag: Alton, does Cynthia have any impressions about this man?>
 
The young woman who had shown him in took him to one of the apartments,
chatting with him and even taking his arm when he offered it. The
apartment was on the ground floor as a convenience for the dragonless
guest. Almost reluctantly, his escort went to leave.
 
"Perhaps you might join me for dinner tonight, if you have no other
plans? I would love to spend some time with you and you seem to know
*everything* about the Warren."
 
"That would be wonderful, Mentorn. I'll pick you up around 8?"
 
"That is perfect. I'll be waiting for you."
 
And with tonight's dessert gone, he set about cleaning himself up and
readying himself for their date.
 
NRPG:
 
This is a post to get an impression of the rogue himself. He really is a
bit of an action man, but is he a friend or just a ruthless self-server?
 
Respectfully submitted,
 
Peter Shillan
aka
Mentorn, Adventurer and Charmer of Man and Woman.

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