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[Scar]

---

How he had gotten where he was today made no difference to him at all. He had forgotten most of his own history. Only snippets of outrageous laughing faces and his murderous crimes occasionally burst within his mind's eye like multi-colored particles of sand swirled upward from water disturbed by the darting of a minnow's frightened passing. The faces, the laughter, the accusing eyes, invaded his most private moments, and he loved it.

Indeed, the nickname to his concocted first name suited him perfectly---Malthrax was quite mad.

But he had been watching a man named Scaramandine for some time, and trailing him, as he went about his business in Papua. He knew when he ate, what he ate, where he slept, and whom he slept with. While his mind was quite the maelstrom of thoughts and images, it remained quite adept at recalling desirable facts. And the comings and goings of the Archon of Papua was desirable... especially knowing for a fact that the man was a Lycanthrope.

Malthrax the Mad had always wanted one as a pet. His vast expertise in alchemy and his unnatural drive allowed him to occasionally stumble upon something truly inventive if not entirely useful... a potion or powder that might, say, change gold into lead, or turn wine into water. But this time he had come upon something he knew would allow him to achieve his dream, and Scar afforded the opportune test subject.

It was a simple matter to convince the waitress that he was selling a powder that would greatly enhance the texture of the meat used in the Papuan Inn's famous stew. After all, they had been using another sort of food enhancement before, and found it quite satisfactory. Being a cheerful and enthusastic sort, Malthrax flourished his typical smile and verve and the young lady who worked cheaply as a cook at the Inn found it well within her heart to add it to the meat to be served to Scar for supper one evening. Admittedly, she found the jingle of his gold an additional inducement.

Pretending to be a friend to the Archon, and having somewhat befriended him beforehand, Malthrax was able to stay close by to study the effects of his concoction. For a full week, after eating the stew laced with the powder, Scar remained bedfast, almost entirely immobilized. Malthrax saw to his needs for water, food, and proper toiletry, keeping away the concerned cook and Scar's harem of inquisitive and lonely lady friends with the claim that he had contracted a virulent disease and needed his sleep and privacy. It seemed to work.

On the night before a full moon, Malthrax led the weakened Scar to a spot in the jungle, memorized several cantrips, and awaited the change patiently, not remotely fearing for his life...

(continued)

[Erinyes Feuri]

---

His room had grown dark and she was uncertian. Sliding like silk across the floor the shadow moved. It was empty. She frowned inwardly. Slinking outside the establishment she wandered aimlessly. Rather forgotten it seemed, by most.

She thought to herself, why had she left her home for this taudry realm of beings? Thraxas was caught up in political matters which she loathed. The one she had made a connection with, had just seemed to vanish. She wondered, Should she look for him? Perhaps he had decided to send her a silent message. Or perhaps he was in danger. She paused, Did she care? For this the shadows brought no answer.

She remained shadow formed not moving in the darkness of the night. Many hours later a pale woman with dark hair was found asleep beneath Yew tree, the monk not knowing what to do with the seemingly unconcious woman took her to a healers hut. She did not awaken, it was disturbing. Yet he returned to the abbey with a shrug.

[Scar]

---

Malthrax was quite asleep by the time the moon appeared high above in the starlit sky. Its subtle rays bathed the landscape in its pale luminesence, until finally they fell upon the prostrate form of Scar, lying on his back in the middle of a small jungle clearing. His form quickly and almost uniformly changed into that of an enormous wolf, leaving his clothing in tatters about his body.

Suddenly, with a snort, he was awake and on his feet, glancing first at the moon, then at what he could see around him. He sniffed. Flesh! ...and warm blood.

Malthrax awakened. He sat with his back against a palm tree, his arms folded. He hastily grabbed the spell book which had fallen from his grasp while he slept and got to his feet. Immediately they locked eyes. "Niiice wolf. See... I am your master! Come to me," he said, easing slowly forward, his right hand extended. "I will take care of you from now on."

The latent humanity within Scar was the only thing that stopped him from instantly ripping the throat out of the strangely brave and not too unfamiliar human. His hackles raised... he bared his fangs and growled a warning.

If anything was proof that he was insane, it was Malthrax's dauntless advance toward the creature. "My, my, but you *are* a big one!" he muttered happily. "Come here... I have something for you." He pulled a slab of fresh venison out of his pack and tossed it in front of the creature which, unable to resist the urge, tore it to pieces and gulped it down . Malthrax smiled. That meat had also been daubed with his special powder.

Scar felt his will to resist slowly ebbing away. Instead of viewing the man as a tasty snack, he began to see him as someone else... someone whom he respected far more than anyone or anything else... Merci d'Rue. The voice became even hers... sympathetically imploring him to follow and to obey. Convinced that it was she who spoke to him, he let out an approving howl toward the moonlit night, strode forward to the extended hand, licked it, and bowed his head.

(continued)

[Thraxas]

---

Though he had not seen her face to face for some time, the connection between them remained unbroken and strong. Thraxas sensed disquiet in Erinyes' mind and associated it with the one whom he sent her to investigate almost a year ago: Scar, who had recently disappeared from Papua. Thraxas, too, had reason to learn of the lycan's whereabouts, having just visited the Wolf King to seek a Maritime Union trading contract with Stonegate. He had mentioned to Myr that his agent in Papua reported Scar missing. It might highlight the fact that the Union had more than mere goods to trade, but also valuable information. This time, however, it would be freely given. For if Thraxas discovered where Scar was, and informed the Wolf King, they might be impressed enough, and maybe a bit indebted, to get the contract.

Probing with his mind toward hers, he sent forth a vision of himself entreating her...

Erinyes Feuri, the one you seek has vanished from Papua. Find him and tell me where he is. Begin searching there. Then let us speak together of the present, and our future.

He had no doubt she would receive the message, but would she accept the task?
_________________
"If a criminal has what you want, you do business with him."

[Scar]

---

The journey to Delucia took a few days to complete, but soon both Malthrax the Mad and Scaramandine had arrived and lodged at the Inn. During the day Scar lay in a nearly catatonic state, his eyes glazed over and his breathing unnaturally heavy. By night, he was able to move about, but his mind remained quite in a fog. He had come to completely confide in his companion, who, to him, was the voice of reason.

"Why was it necessary for me to leave Papua?" he asked his sidekick.

"Ah, my friend, but you were very sick you know! The council was worried, thinking what you have might be contagious. They did not want an epidemic. You suggested to them that we come here until your health has improved," he replied. "Besides, you could use a vacation... a holiday... eh?"

Scar nodded, absently.

Malthrax did not tell him what their real purpose was: to establish a "business" venture based upon "property insurance." They offered protection to those who would pay up, and for those who refused, well, they returned the next day to a shop smashed to pieces, as if a wild, rabid, animal had been let loose inside. After a few such episodes, most of the shop-keepers got the message and were happily complying... finding it quite within their means to part with a few gold coins per week for the insurance premium. Malthrax was not entirely elated, however, and had been considering including a new surcharge for a similar "health insurance" plan. But he did not want to make too big a fuss too soon.

Thus they spent the days holed up somewhere, drinking and wenching, and ventured out at night as needed when the moon was full to explain to the few reluctant and recalcitrant merchants how useful the property insurance could be.

[Scar]

---

"Where are they?!" the hulking, burly, unkempt man demanded of the Innkeeper in Delucia. He emphasized his unhappiness by pounding his fist on the wall. "That madman and his bodyguard?"

Not terribly frightened, the Innkeeper smiled. He knew exactly of whom the man spoke. "They'll be in soon. Wait here and see," he said. "But mind you, take any business you have with them outside... hear?" Being a rather large man himself, he drew himself up, making it clear that his words were no idle threat.

Grunting a begrudged approval, the man went back to the table where four of his cohorts sat guzzling ales one after the other; clearly in an attempt to bolster their flagging courage.

They had not long to wait. In stepped Malthrax and Scar, having made a brief patrol of the town to collect payment. Malthrax did that only in the evening, just in case he needed his "pet's" special abilities all of a sudden. The wisdom of this had proved helpful several times already.

Scar observed the men at the table, noting that each of them cast a disapproving glare his way. "Trouble," he muttered.

Malthrax heard him and nodded. "Let us oblige then," he whispered. He led Scar to the table. "Good evening gentlemen," Malthrax greeted them. "You look like the sort who mean to play rough. Are we the intended victims, perchance?"

The hulking thug stood up suddenly. "Aye, I've been sent to collect from you, you blathering idiot! Out of yer hide if not your money pouch!" He lunged forward at the same time his semi-drunken allies took their cue and rose to join him.

"I said not in here!!!" the Innkeeper yelled, running over to the table, waving his hands in the air frantically.

His attempt to stop the fight proved futile, and injurious... to him. One of the men smashed an empty ale bottle across his face, sending him spinning to the floor, his face cut and bleeding badly.

Malthrax jumped back, avoiding the lunge of the hulking brute and fled for the door, stopping to laugh first and then turn around. In his hands he held at least six purple potions. "Fooled ya!" he grinned. Scar was tangled up with the other four fighting madly to free himself from their grasp as they sought to pummel him to the floor with fists and kicks. He did manage to roll away, knowing what was about to happen.

Before the thugs could recover six purple potions went flying toward them as fast as Malthrax could throw them... and he knew how to throw them fast.

Six massive explosions later, Malthrax picked himself off the floor, extinguishing the flames on his robe. His burnt face was still a grinning mask. Scar had found protection behind the overturned table. His eardrums rang badly but he was otherwise merely bruised from the beating.

Lying on the floor and scattered were the dismembered, blackened, smouldering, and in a few instances, burning, body parts of the five brutes.

The Innkeeper was dead also.

"Time to move on, Scar. We will need to find a place outside the city for awhile... otherwise these knaves won't leave us alone," Malthrax remarked, calmly, as if he were merely talking about the weather. "Let's go."

Scar roused himself and felt compelled to resist, but the words of his friend made sense, and he did need some rest. He remained weak and could not seem to regain his full strength. "Aye," he replied. "Let's get out of here."

[Scar]

---

The wait had been long enough, Malthrax decided, and their prospects had dried up in Delucia besides. It was time to move on. Papua seemed logical, but Scar would easily be recognized there, and should any of his former friends or acquaintances see him, that could jog his memory sufficiently to ruin the hold on his pet's mind. No, they would have to journey elsewhere.

Yew seemed a logical choice. There was a portal not far from where they had been camping out the last week or so. They would make for that and see if fortune would continue to smile upon them.

Scar's mind was slowly becoming unhinged. He could not easily remember things anymore. His only real contact with reality seemed to be the wild-eyed friend who stayed as close to him as his shadow... and that link was becoming thread-bare. "Where are we going now?" he asked his mentor, as they trudged along a narrow path toward their destination.

"I think we should make for Yew. It is a small place where nothing much happens. We visit the outlying farms to look for work and prospects, then move on toward Skara Brae. Our pockets should be filled during the interim." Malthrax replied.

Scar's attention was suddenly drawn to an approaching wolf, which had stopped scant yards away to eye him warily. He, too, stopped as their gaze met. Come home, Scar. You must return home!... he heard the hushed voice in his head, but he somehow knew, or at least believed, it was the wolf who was speaking to him.

"What are you doing?!" Malthrax barked as he turned to observe the scene. "Come on! It will be dark soon and I want to be in Yew before nightfall."

You belong with us... your kin. Come home to us, Scar.

The wolf suddenly disintegrated. Scar was knocked backward from the explosions of several well-timed purple potions aimed at the animal.

Scar shook his head and got up quickly... the flame of his anger rising up within him. The alchemist's obnoxious chuckle only fed the fires. He ran at him suddenly and knocked him to the ground with one pummeling blow to the face. "Do not EVER... EVER do that again!! Do you hear?!!" he bellowed. "If you DO, I will KILL YOU!!"

Malthrax laughed and stood up, wiping blood off his mouth. "Whatever you say, friend," he replied with an unnatural calm. "It was only for fun... though we do need to hurry along. Don't we?"

The way he said that made perfect sense to Scar. "Yes... I suppose so." He began brushing the dust off the man's robe with his hand. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"It is nothing. We're friends, remember? Sometimes even *I* get on my nerves," he chuckled. "Let us move along and forget about it."

Together they continued their journey to the passage to Yew.

[Merci d'Rue]

---

A fevered dream took the bandaged Merci and she called out softly to one of her kin who had long been missing...

Come home...
_________________
May destiny guide you...

[Scar]

---

Things in Yew did not quite turn out as planned. Prying eyes seemed to be everywhere. The town seemed to be on the verge of civil war. Eventually Malthrax determined the source of the insecurities... the humans of Yew and the elves of Heartwood were at odds.

“I think our timing is not so good,” Malthrax told Scar as they sat at a table in the Winery, sampling Yew's best. “Perhaps we should not linger here,” he suggested.

Scar took no notice of him. His mind reeled from dizziness and pain that alternated constantly. His hands shook noticeably. He couldn't sleep and fatigue seemed his constant companion. He let the wine bottle slip from his hand. It fell to the table, splashing the last few drops on it. He grasped his face with both hands. “I've got to get help,” he muttered. “Something's wrong with me.”

Malthrax leaned over, patting his arm. “We've been on the road a lot. That's all it is. You'll recover your strength when we find a new home... and it will be soon, I promise.”

Scar was unconvinced. “Why am I here?”

“Why are we here, you mean?”

Scar looked up at him. “No, I mean me! Why did you bring me here? I should be in Papua; I have family in Stonegate who haven't seen me in months! I need to see them!” he argued.

Malthrax withdrew his hand and placed it in one of the deep pockets of his robe. He sought a bottle of powder; that which helped him control his “pet.” To his horror, he noticed it was gone. He stood up and began a frantic search of his pockets, pouches, and pack.

“What are you looking for?” Scar asked him.

Malthrax ignored his question for a moment, but the look of shock on his face was too obvious to hide. “I... I lost something,” he mumbled.

“Tell me what it was and I'll help you look for it,” Scar replied, standing up.

“No, no!” Malthrax protested. He looked around the room and under the table, searching for the bottle, his fear increasing by the minute. Without the powder, the “spell” would wear off and he would lose control. He knew he needed to make a new batch, but he had been certain that he had enough left until he could make more.

One of the monks observed the confused scene and walked over to them. “Is anything wrong?” he asked, speaking kindly.

“I have lost a bottle,” Malthrax stated. “Potion bottle, tinted green. Cork stopper. Very easy to spot.”

Obediently the monk began searching the room.

An episode of dizziness hit Scar suddenly. The room whirled about him. He felt sick and rushed toward the door as best he could, grabbing anything that might steady his walk... including the monk whom he knocked down accidentally. The monk did not protest but got up and dusted himself off, smiling. “Too much wine, eh?” he remarked jokingly.

Scar fled outside. It was dusk. Felucca was rising; it would be full soon. Malthrax called out to Scar and tried to grab him, but the man was too big and too determined... he pushed him back and ran away into the advancing night.