"In the course of our travels to other worlds, it has become apparent that we are not the only entities that are aware of the place that exists between these worlds. It can be theorized that we are not the first race to pass through these portal wells, nor will we be the last." - Asheron Realaidain, Master of the Lyceum at Knorr

Wails grew louder and the little figured looked backward, tripped on a root, and tumbled into the thick muck of the Blackmire Swamp. Though the nights were warmer than they had been only weeks before, the night air was still wintry. The creature's muscles stiffened and his blood became as viscous as the winter swamp about him. Another wail sounded and the mosswart clapped his yellow-green hands over his ears and met the sound with a scream of his own. His breath came in short gasps and his saucer eyes looked about wildly.

"Dead all!" the little thing howled into the night. Crying and whimpering, he grasped the roots of the nearby banyan tree and struggled to his feet. The wail echoed through the swamp again, the sound of hundreds of claws drawing across slate in perfect unison. Chills ran down the mosswart's spine and he pushed away from the tree and launched into a full sprint. His wide feet sent the filth of the Blackmire into the air as he ran southeast from his home.

For hours Grearrk ran. Squealing, scampering, tumbling, running, covered in filth and blood, driven by the panic and fear that had crept into his heart as he slept and the horror that had nearly drained his soul when he woke. He ran through the swamp, northwest toward the humans. They would help. The Banderlings were as much an enemy to them as they were to the Mosswarts. When the torches of Sawato became visible the panic in Grearrk's heart began to subside. He was filled with hope and pressed his little form even harder.

Ite Kenzen had stepped out of his tavern to enjoy the first of what he hoped would be several warm nights in Wintersebb, when he saw the yellow-brown form charging toward him with large wild eyes. He yelped and tried to roll to his right as the mosswart sprung upon him and toppled him to the ground.

"Help won't you, Grearrk! Help won't you!" The mosswart screamed again and again. Its little voice sounded hoarse. The creature lifted Ite to a sitting position and then slid behind him, cowering and using his body as a shield. Ite felt a wave of panic wash over him -- the mosswart was fleeing from something and he was being used as a shield. As the creature's voice fell to a whimper, Ite began to scan the outskirts of the town for signs of what happened. A patron came from the tavern and drew a sword. The mosswart screeched and scurried beneath the steps of the establishment, bawling and begging in broken Roulean.

Ite, free of the creature's grasp, stood and held a hand up toward the adventurer. He shook his head and then spoke to the mosswart in a gentle tone.

"What happened?"

"Wanga, without warning comes Wanga. Machine of screams is hidden in home. Banderlings bring Wanga in screams. Very bad is new magic! Dead all, dead all! Grearrk escape only. Help won't you Grearrk?" The little creature crouched on all fours and shifted left and right, wary that the sword-wielding human would lash out him.

Ite looked at the frightened creature and turned to adventurer. "Fetch a guard for me."

"Hurt no, Grearrk. No weapons he brings. Hurt no, Grearrk," the creature sobbed.

"I am going to help you, Grearrk."

*****

Ulgrim staggered along the roadside and smiled as he saw the broken lifestone in the distance. Taking another pull from his ale he made his way up the short incline and stared at the shards of blue. He dropped his stein to ground. It landed with a thud and miraculously did not spill a drop. From within the folds of his robe he produced a wand and started an incantation. In the middle of the casting a belch escaped his lips and a scent of burning hair was all that remained of the mage. Fortunately, he had grabbed his brew.

*****

"I am sorry, Aulakhe, I have not heard from Lord Asheron in several weeks." Elysa sat beside the crouching Tumerok and spoke softly, trying to console him. "If the place where the atua ngamaru are keeping Aun Tanua has become unstable, I am sure that many will come to investigate." The tumerok bowed his head and shook it in agreement once.

"Thank you, Ispar Elysatah. I will do my best to strengthen the will of those in my akiekie." He rose and turned to leave but stopped short as he heard footsteps coming to the door.

Antius pushed the door open and gave a half-bow and salute to Aun Aulakhe, then turned his attention to Elysa.

"It is true. The mosswart's name is Grearrk. He's resting now just outside of Sawato. We looked over the structures he directed us to between Sawato and the ruins of Yanshi." He smiled lightly. "We found that there were several mosswarts who were not attacked, but he spoke true. His hovel looked like a massacre had taken place." He passed Aulakhe and sat beside Elysa. The Tumerok lightly beat the drum at his waist. "We searched the area briefly; aside from the stench we could see nothing out of the ordinary."

"We shall see what the morning light brings," Elysa said calmly and nodded her head as she placed her hand atop Antius'.

"Ispar Elysatah, Ispar Antiusnua, the spirits are agitated. Their words warn of a terrible kah that comes to us all. They know fear," Aun Aulakeh said in a quiet tone.

"Whatever that is, Aulakhe, we shall stand against it and set the spirits to ease once again. Our Xuta's will be strong, together." Elysa smiled to reassure the young Tumerok leader.

*****

As the sun began to rise over the Blackmire, a thin vine reached through the surface of the swamp and promptly perished.