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[Smiticles]

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A faint light…growing stronger…soft voices, almost a whisper...getting clearer.

“Master, Master quick, his eyes are moving…”

The light is clearer now and morphing…morphing into a…a ceiling…clearly a ceiling.

Why am I staring at a ceiling?

Voices again…and a face…a soft young and excited face.

Look, look he’s opened his eyes” and an older, wiser smiling face…”Welcome back my son, you’ve been gone from us for quite a while!”

W…Wh…where am I?

“Ah my son you are in Maginicia, I am the city’s healer and this is Auhora, my young apprentice, she will get you some food and once sustained I will tell you how you came to be with us.”

Once satisfied that the young man was capable of comprehension the healer began to relay the story.

“You see, my son, I must sometimes send my young Auhora to gather herbs and medicinals and the costs can be overbearing at the city’s bazaar. As such I am forced, against my better wishes, to deal with the black marketers of Buccaneer’s Den. A few months back she was on such an errand. You see, in order to avoid scrutiny we will beach our small craft south of the port and use a little known wooded trail to reach the Den. On this particular day we stumbled upon a body in the wood…bruised, beaten and near death. Twas you, young man, that we found. We rushed you back to our humble cottage, cleaned you, examined you and placed you here in this bed. Your wounds healed admirably but alas, you would not awake. Auhora, as young as she is, felt you had been cursed or demonized in some way. I, of course knew better and that you would awake when your body felt the time was nigh. You have been in this sleep for well over two months”

Clearly a bit shocked by such a development the young man asks, “But how did I come to be in such a condition?”

“Ah well I myself traveled back to the Den and inquired a bit of you. It seems, my young friend, that you had arrived in the Den one evening and went straight to the Pirate’s Plunder. I did not get much detail other than you became involved in an altercation of sorts and you where eventually overwhelmed. You where struck such a blow to the head that your current condition resulted. Blackheart…not wanting questions of course, had your body dumped where he assumed the wilds would feast upon you and you would be forever forgotten. He would have been correct had we not found you so quickly. I must say too that you where remembered quite well for you tore through quite a number of brigands before being dispatched.”

It all started to come back…the tavern and the fight. I was in Buc’s Den simply to satisfy a craving for Blackheart’s fine whiskey. I remember too that the Brigand master did not like warriors and such and to get such an elixir I had to leave my armor at home and pose as smuggler. A good thing too for it would have been surely stolen had I been wearing it. The tavern was crowded that night and full to the brim with scum. I overheard some talk. Talk of Mr. Poet’s. These bastards spoke of the women at Poet’s. I heard the descriptive word wench tossed about and then I heard the name. Mallory…Mallory…one of them referred to her has a fine young wench. It was the last thing he ever said before his neck was impaled by the bottle. They came on in numbers after that…one…two…four…five went down as I used every piece of the bar as a weapon. Then a sharp crack…like a whip, but inside my head…and a wetness down the back of my neck…then blackness.

A few days later, having recovered some strength, the young man thanked the gentle healer and the young apprentice. They where kind enough to lend him some coin to secure a passage…not home to Vesper but back to the Den. In the Den, well disguised, he found the men who had brought him down in such a cowardly way. The fish in the port that night feed well. From there he went by way of the secret portal the pirate used many ages ago to raid Vesper. This portal deposited him on the road just north of his beloved village of Riverrun.

Finally home and in his own bed he had to only wonder what had become of his friends and what they thought had become of him. Had they searched for him? Did they even know he was missing given that he had taken up long odyssey’s in the past? And Mallory? What would she think after this time? He could not help but think she must have moved on fearing the worst. That thought ate at him and he knew he would have to find her soon and he could only hope she would accept him again.

Once thing he knew for sure, he was home again. Heading into his library he pulled down a dusty old tome. With a quick breath and a small swipe of the hand he reveled the writing on the cover…A Journal Depicting the Travels of Smiticles Conal Conach. He sat and began transcribing this latest chapter in his story. Later he would seek out his friends and loved ones to let them know Smiticles had returned.