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[Xanola]

Swind Northwhile awoke in his tower as usual, groggy as hell, but after the drinking he'd been doing the night before, that was to be expected. Last night someone had told him the world was ending, so he drank like there would be no tomorrow, since he truly believed there wouldn't be. the dawn he now saw through the white brick windows told him he was badly misinformed. He got up, barely able to stand, and shaved... one of the few rituals that his training in the praet army had remained after retirement. As he looked in the mirror, he saw a few grays in his blond hair "time for another dye job at the barber" he thought, and began donning his armor.
He stepped out of the keep and greeted his recruit, Lowell, heartily. This would be a good day, surely. Out of nowhere, a man dressed in white robes came plowing by on his white horse, nearly running him over.
"Swind! Great to see you again!" the newcomer said "It's been far too long."
"You idiot druid... one too many claws to the noggin from that dern lizard of yours, I suppose... I saw you at the party only last night" Swind replied gruffly. The red haired man just shook his head, knowing there was no way the simple minded Swind would ever believe what had really happened. He muttered some of that wierd gobblety gook that he was so fond of, and a blue gate appearedbehind him, which the druid rode through, and was gone. Xanola had always worried Swind, talking about secret rites, and magic spells. You couldn't trust anyone who put their faith in hibbety jibbety magic like that, he always said. No, a good sword or halberd in your hand, and some faithful men at your side... that was sanity, and anything else well... wasn't.
He tersely commanded Lowell to come with him... his desk had papers regarding newcomers to be ready for, and he wasn't about to let their training pass him by. Riding through town for supplies, he noted that the streets were strangely empty, but took no mind to it. No doubt all that mystic mumbo jumbo from last night had scared people into hiding.
He stepped into the bank and noted his normal teller was unavailable, but decided to do some business with the new feller anyway. The bloke by the name of Sam gave him his box, and he withdrew a ton of shovels, which he handed off to his faithful and ever-silent subordinate. There was a promotion in that man's future, make no mistake. They rode over to the chamber of virtue, and paid their respects to the icon of Valor before heading to Compassion desert. One of the first things that the newcomers should have, he decided, was a good horse. Normally, he'd trust flesh and blood over some tinkered contraption, but the man he normally had make such arrangements was acting even stranger than normal, so obsidian would have to do. He spent hours in the desert, gathering sand for glass, when a huge duststorm kicked up... then, to his dismay, it concentrated itself... and he saw in it's core a pair of dimly glowing eyes. He had been a miner long enough to know that this foe was not to be trifled with lightly... unfortunately, Lowell did not. Before Swind could warn him not to, his subordinate sprang into action, charging the foe with a fury Swind didn't know he had in him. Swind tried to get the elemental's attention, making various insults about the beast's mother, but to no avail. Lowell was engulfed in and shredded by the miniature dust storm.
Swind was not without feeling, so he took revenge on the sand elemental for his fallen ally, then headed to Trinsic.
Not many realise that not all praetorians will kill you on sight, especially if you've got one of their own held in front of you with a dagger to his throat. Luckily, Swind knew this particular secret handshake, and used it to gain the ear of the local General. He told the general of Lowell's plight, and asked for a new recruit, hopefully one with some potential, just out of training. The general had heard tales of old Swind from the good old days, and dispatched to him one Logan S Parrysworth, of Moonglow. Swind gladly led the new subordinate (who happened to already have a dagger at his throat) back to his tower, to have a drink with after his first particularly trying day back.

[Bodal]

Another great read Xan!

I blame Gramps for getting Swind drunk and Azzo for the misinformation. Those Ranars are always causing trouble!

And I don't trust this new banker...

[krellen]

I agree, my uncle Azzo is mischievous....it is probly his fault. Gramps has been brewing and has stores of his high end hooch that has been aging these years in oaken barrels. Anyone in need of refreshments please feel free to seek him out and ply a bottle or two from his drun...errr his aged experienced hands.... He hates it when I describe him as a drunk. Just remember, all the Ranar clan are not like Uncle Azzo.