London England

May 1879

Young master Chester Grants had several things to regret. The first being a failure to pass the final exams at the University of London for a Bachelors of Medicine. The second being drinking in a cheap pub near the docks, off of Ganford Street. The third being the footpad behind him with a cosh, and another in front with a wicked looking knife.

He thought he was seeing things caused by bad drink when a hole in the universe opened under him, and he fell 'sideways' through the world. Stars and strange creatures flew past him. Colors not found in the rainbow caressed his cheeks. Sounds unheard by the living traveled through him.

Eventually he awoke on a stone road built into the side of a mountain. He staggered to his feet, vomited, and finally looked around, “I think I have gone insane.”

*-*-*

The road between the destroyed city of Brigh and Warton.

Dwarven kingdom of Hasandri.

8th of Amsiel, Second month of Summer.

2290 years since the new gods came.

Camp setup and breakdown have become second nature to the refugees. We are down to just under an hour for both, as opposed to the three hours they each took before. Travel speed has also increased up to almost ten miles a day.

A man in tweed clothing and spectacles has appeared in the road. Name of Chester something-or-other. Claims to be from Lun-din, Engrand. The name sounds familiar from somewhere... I will probably wake up and remember it just before sunrise in the next few days.

- - -

Chester Grants woke up. He looked at the stone road he had been walking down for the past day, and his stomach growled. There was a stupid book in his vision again. He tried to concentrate on it, but couldn't read, as the world swam in front of him. He closed his eyes once more, resigned to his fate.

-

“Brandy, is that a person lying across the road?” Maxwell asked.

Brandy looked up from where she was snuggled between Puff the kitten, and the dark woman of the spear. “Probably? I'm too comfy to move just now.”

Nomvula of the Zulu looked up from the 'Children's book of Words' Max had given her, “I will go and check. If it's white, may I stab it?”

“No.” Brandy and Max said in unison.

“Very well, master Maxwell.” Nomvula jumped from the wagon, and dashed towards the person shaped lump in the road. “It is a white man. Please run him over.”

“We don't run over anyone who isn't directly threatening us.” Max yelled back. “Carry them back here. Please.”

Nomvula made a 'harrumph' sound, but easily picked up the unconscious man, slung him over a shoulder, and carried him back to the still moving wagon. Puff opened one blue eye at the disturbance, flexed her right paw (leaving a deep gouge on the wagon seat), and went back to sleep.

-

Chester woke up. He felt his body being jostled around. He felt something small on his chest, and something almost soft under his back. He opened one eye, and met the stare of a fluffy white cats blue eyes. Then he noticed the tiny woman sitting on the cats back. “Have I awoken in a land of tiny people? Tiny people who ride cats?” He said aloud.

The small woman laughed, a high pitched and loud laugh, almost falling off of her mount. That was when Chester saw the wings. And teeth. He sat bolt upright, and screamed, “The Fae! The Fae are here to eat me! Someone! Help me!” He then passed out.

-

The Fae aren't real. They can't be real. Chester's mind reeled. “Where am I?” He asked, eyes closed.

“In the back of a wagon, on the high road through the mountains.” A mans voice answered him. “I'm Maxwell, and you are apparently one of the heroes that I'm supposed to collect.”

“A what now?”

“Hero. Do you want me to spell it for you?” The Maxwell person replied.

“No. I understand the word's meaning just fine.” Chester kept his eyes closed. “I just question your use of it in regards to myself.”

“Let me ask you a couple of simple questions, did you die and wake up here?”

“No.”

“Did a giant hand come down and pluck you into the air?”

“No.”

“Did a hole open under or next to you, and pull you through?”

“Um...yes?”

“There you go. Hero.”

Chester opened his eyes and sat up to look at 'Maxwell'. The first thing he saw were the eyes, blue, with a look of having seen death and come back, a look he had seen in some friends who had returned from war. The next was the dark hair, and tanned skin. Maybe a bit of Italian in his background? Last was the pixie sitting on his shoulder. “So...the Fae are real. I did travel to another... place... bugger... Could I please have some food?”

- - -

9th of Amsiel,

Chester and Nomvula are getting along not so well. He tried to treat her like a servant, and got himself stabbed for his trouble. She is very quick with that spear. Puff...fluff...whatever, the cat is flying on it's own. I think Brandy has been feeding it pixie dust.

13th on Amsiel,

About 18 days left. Chester is reading Everything he can get his hands on, even some of my sewing patterns. As a 'learn-ed man' he has decided to take the route of the magician, and apply the 'scientific principles' to the mastery of magic. When I tested his magical capabilities, he tested positive for all the schools that I have knowledge of, including 'soul' and 'holy'. Both are usually reserved for the 'god touched' followers of one religion or another. Weird. Anyway, I have started his basic training on basic spells the likes of which you can find at any decent sized adventurers guild. I even have some of the earlier versions of a few spells that aren't taught anymore, like 'compress'*.

18th of Amsiel,

Thirteen days left. No new heroes. No spontaneous god appearances. No dead dwarves on the road. I am enjoying the boredom.

19th of Amsiel,

Bjorn walked into camp tonight. Covered in stinky demon blood and gore. Chester tried to burn him, and Nomvula tried to stab him. It went better than expected, all things considered...

- - -

Bjorn walked through the camp, blood and gore covered maul over one shoulder. Everyone in his path either ran or dropped to their knees. Until he made it to the center where Maxwell's wagon was parked, and Chester and Nomvula were trading verbal barbs and punches (something about the white man's clear mental superiority). Chester was winning the verbal portion of the argument, but was going to have a beautiful set of shiners in the morning.

They saw the approach of the strange, overly large dwarf, and stopped they're argument, staring. Chester struck a pose, hand outstretched; Nomvula plucked her spear from where it leaned against the wagon. Chester spoke first, “Begone fowl thing, or I will burn you to ashes!”

Bjorn raised his maul from his shoulder, and Chester cast Flame Tongue. The magical lance of fire washed over Bjorn, slightly singing the accumulated filth, and his beard. Then Nomvula charged in with her spear, striking hard and fast. Bjorn just stood there, and rolled his eyes. “Look you little shits, I'm here to talk to Max, not dance with you morons.” He gently thumped the ground with the maul, and the two heroes flew back, impacting heavily against the wagon.

Brandywine flew out of the wagon at that point, looked at the scene before her and giggled. “Max! Max! Max! Come out and look at this!” She giggled some more. “The children have met Bjorn!”

Max stuck his head out of the wagon, let his head droop to his chest, and groaned. “Bjorn. Take a bath. Then you can come in and drink my extra keg.”

- - -

20th of Amsiel,

Never letting Chester cook again. Boiled vegetables are supposed to look like vegetables, not mush. Bjorn got really drunk and had to sleep outside last night.

The hangover was...godly. He did seem to be in better spirits today. We no longer need to head to the capital. Once we reach Warton, the plan is to head east, and start looking for the Demon Lord. Bastard is going to pay for this. Could take weeks. Could take months. Could take years. But I have a score to settle with them. To quote Tristan, “I'll be their huckleberry.”**

21st of Amsiel,

Appaerntly Bjorn can make people move faster? We arrive at Warton tomorrow.

Warton, Watesteria Provence, Hasandri.

22nd of Amsiel,

Nice city. 12,000 people, mostly dwarves. Everyone seems to still be in shock from the revelation of the demons in their midst. The refugees have been taken in by the church. Something about their god being there made the question about 'money in exchange for assistance' that most churches require not be asked.

We will be here for about three days.

25th of Amsiel,

The stupid cat dive bombed my plate at breakfast. Stole a whole slab of ham. I swear it gets bigger every day. Some idiot let it slip that I was going off to hunt the demons. I blame Brandy and Bjorn. I have an army now.

26th of Amsiel,

132 Dwarven militia, 15 acolytes of the church, 9 Demonia transplants, and...a pocket dragon with it's pet goblin. What did I do in a past life to deserve this?

27th of Amsiel,

Finally left today. The switchbacks on the old roads are a terror for man and beast. Got a call from Heretics Hold. Halflings***. Thrice cursed HALFLINGS! That was what left the prints in the snow. They swarmed the country, and swore fealty to king what's his name. It apparently took this long for the Halflings crown to wake them from their slumber in the northern and southern ice caps. Damn. I thought they were extinct. I mean, Tristan and I saw the bones of Giants in a couple of the larger mountain caves we delved into, and just assumed the halflings were there too.

Word to the (un)wise: The swords giants carried? Too big for dragons to wield, NOT to big for dragons to use for traps.

28th of Amsiel,

Elves...

Hell. Cursed. ELVES!!!

*-*-*

'Heretic Collection' Curator V. L. here for another explanation and history lesson for those unfamiliar with world history.

* 'Compress' is banned due to this thing called 'gravitic manipulation'. Apparently using gravity to compress someone/thing into a 1' cube isn't considered a good thing, since if the spell gets away from you it creates a small hole of pure gravity to appear for .7 seconds. (It makes a micro black hole.)

** After some annoying reading, both 'huckleberry' and 'Huckle Bearer' were historically used, and both can have the same meaning. Also, having spent a lot of time in the 'south' huckleberry fits Tristan's speaking profile better. This information was a PITA to gather from the other world. What are these 'inter-webs'?

*** “Halflings” were the second creation of Elder God Vuharin (god of beauty and the plains). They were rejected by Vuharin for not being beautiful enough, and eventually lost their crown and kingdom when they allied with their human brethren in the “War of Rejection” against Vuharin. They have been long thought to be extinct. They got the name 'halfling' by being roughly half the size of the giants, so about 14 to 25 feet tall.