From: cgirard@metz.une.edu.au (CHRISTIAN GIRARD)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Genesis of Timelord: Part I
Message-ID: <221@grivel.une.edu.au>
Date: 7 Mar 93 00:06:25 GMT


ADMIN:  Well, here it is , after far too long,  the  first part of the life
history  of Timelord.  Enjoy!



Genesis of Timelord

The years past as Timelord grew up in his father's house.  Hoelt was a
moderately prosperous fur dealer, and so was often away from home for extended
periods buying and selling.  When at home he was a doting parent, full of love
and laughs.
Bravya ran the home, commanding their few servants, and spending most of her 
time caring for her son.  Although having a nanny to care for Timelord when she
was busy, Bravya spent as much time as possible with him, raising him in the 
best was she knew.
And so the years went by.  Timelord grew from a small baby into a healthy 
toddler, then to a tall young boy.  At five he was tall and fit, his curly brown
hair cut at shoulder length.
One night in Timelord's seventh year Hoelt returned home in a state of great 
excitement.  He breezed into the sitting room, caught Bravya by the waist and 
twirled her round and round the room, laughing all the while.  He planted an 
exuberant kiss on her lips, then danced over to the fireplace.
"I have done it!" he cried joyously.
"Done what?" asked Bravya breathlessly.
Hoelt moved over to his wife.
"Do you remember that great trade caravan expedition planned all those months 
ago," he said more seriously, "designed to foster trade and relations between 
ourselves and the other lands?"
Bravya nodded.
"It's going ahead!"  Hoelt could no longer contain his excitement.  He strode 
around the room, his eyes shining.  "After all this time, the greatest 
expedition ever to set out from this land is about to commence.  Traders from 
everywhere, as well as diplomats, will all gather together and set out to meet 
the rest of the world.  Through all the great duchies, the principalities, the 
great cities - all will be visited!"
He turned again to his wife.
"And we'll be with them," he whispered.
"That's wonderful!" cried Bravya.  Then she frowned.  "But what about our son? 
He's nearly at the age of calling..."
"It's all been taken care of," he interrupted.  "There will be other children 
coming too, and teachers have been provided to care for their education.  
Priests too, so if our journey isn't over by the time he is nine, then he can 
still go through the ceremony.  This is the opportunity of a lifetime!"
"Oh, Hoelt!" she said, embracing him warmly, "When do we start?"

The next month was a time of frantic activity all over the land.  Although not 
every trader could possibly make the journey, everyone knew that if it were a 
success, it could result in great riches for the land.  The best the people had
to offer was provided; livestock, grains, farm animals and produce, precious 
metals and stones, everything was gathered in readiness.
Also prepared were the political delegations who would be there not only to 
ensure that trade deals went smoothly, but also to strengthen and in some cases
make diplomatic ties with the governments they encountered.
In total the expedition numbered two hundred men, women and children.  There 
were farmers, blacksmiths, stone masons, bakers, butchers, teachers, priests, 
servants and guards, as well as others that represented a cross section of the 
entire land.  They set out one fine summer's morning, cheered on their way by 
those who waited for their eventual return and the great profits it would reap.
Hoelt was one of the leaders of the trade caravans, part of a council of people
responsible for the organisation of the various produce caravans.  They kept 
the herds in order, settled minor disputes, and planned how to keep everyone 
fed and happy.
The leader of the expedition was Count Astoph of Myle, who as both head of the 
caravan and chairman of the diplomats was the most powerful man among them.  It
was he who made the main decisions, set the goals for the journey, and who 
ultimately ratified all judgments made by the council.
The plan was simple, yet wide in scope.  The caravan would wind its way firstly
through the nearby duchies, spending relatively little time in their friendly 
neighbour's lands.  They would then spiral outwards through increasingly distant
lands, finishing in Generica, the largest mainland trading city, and a place of 
great prosperity.  At each capital city or palace, a delegation would meet with
the leaders in trade and government from that land, in an effort to seal trade 
routes and diplomatic ties.  Once their travels were complete, the caravan would
return home, bearing news of their epic journey.
The first stop was the duchy of Valiast in the Great Heath, where the duke, 
Gallan Valiast, would join the caravan with his youngest son and a small body of
his personal guard.  As a close friend of Astoph, Gallan wished to join the
caravan to lend his skills at diplomacy and visit the other earls and barons of
the lands.
They reached the duke's house in the late afternoon.  While the rest of the 
caravan made camp, Count Astoph went up to the house to meet his friend.
The two men shook hands.
"Astoph, my old friend," said Gallan warmly, "it has been too long.  How are you
and your wife?"
"They're fine," replied Astoph.  "And what of you?  I hear your youngest son is
growing well.  What is he now?  six?"
"Seven a week ago," Gallan said, "and just as excited as I am to join this 
momentous expedition."  He turned and gave a brief order to a waiting servant.
"Stay for dinner," he offered, "we will be ready to leave at first light, along
with a detachment of my own personal guard, just in case we run into some
trouble."
"Gladly," accepted Astoph, and the two moved into the manor.
The caravan moved out at dawn, the wagons, horses and livestock stringing out 
for some considerable distance.  Count Valiast's personal guard rode up and down
the flanks, chatting casually to the people, and keeping an eye out for trouble.
The captain of the guard, Captain Skerg, rode at the head of the column, his 
brightly plumed helmet gleaming in the sun.  Inclined to slight portliness, he 
constantly talked of his past exploits in various armed services, pausing only 
to give orders to his subordinates.  Those who rode with him soon grew tired of
his constant talk, but decided to humour him.
With so many families making the journey, there were a fair number of children 
in the caravan.  Although their time was pretty much their own, teachers had 
been provided for them to see to their education.  So at specific times during 
the day classes would be held, ranging from letter-learning and counting for the
young to apprenticeship and scholastic services for the older.
Timelord was in a class of eight other six and seven year olds, among them 
Valiast's son Rollik.  By nature a quiet boy, Timelord usually sat quietly and 
listened, seeming not to crave the attention of the others in the class.  He was
by no means slow - in fact he was brighter than all the other children except 
for Rollik.
Rollik was in many ways the antithesis of Timelord, being outgoing, talkative, 
and ready to take the lead at the nearest opportunity.  Although high-born, he 
readily mixed with the others in the class, and the teachers were genuinely fond
of him.  Timelord liked him as well, though he usually didn't say very much to 
him during the classes.
That changed about two weeks into the expedition.  It was early evening, and 
Timelord was returning to his family's caravan after watching some of the guard
train.  He often did this when the caravan had halted for the night, thinking it
would be very fine to one day serve in such a force.
He was passing a darkened part of the camp when he heard voices coming out of 
the darkness.
"Hey, rich boy," whispered someone nastily, "who's gonna help you now?"
"Yeah, teacher's pet," came a second, nasally voice, "we's gonna teach you a 
lesson!"
Muffled laughter filled the air.
"Unhand me!" Timelord could easily identify Rollik's voice.  He crept towards 
the sounds, making no noise.  A natural cleft in a rock face formed a kind of 
dead-end alley, and it was from here that the voices came.  Timelord sidled up 
to the entrance and looked in.
Four boys, all two to three years older than Rollik and Timelord, had Rollik 
trapped in the cleft.  Timelord thought he recognised two of them - a pair that
had a reputation as troublemakers and bullies.  Knowing that Rollik had no 
chance against them on his own, Timelord decided to lend a hand.  As quietly as
he could, he made his way towards the group, staying close to one wall to avoid
being seen.
The boys were pushing Rollik around, obviously building up to something more 
violent.  Rollik was trying to talk his way out and occasionally attempting to 
force his way past them, but to no avail.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Rollik saw Timelord approaching.  
Immediately he began to sniffle and sob, changing rapidly from a belligerent 
youngster into a snivelling, pitiful baby.
"Go away!" he said between shuddering breaths.  "I want my daddy!' he cried, 
then crouched on the ground, hands over his head, bawling loudly.
"Crybaby," sneered the closest boy, standing over him, "crybaby, crybaby!"
The others took up the chant.
"Crybaby, crybaby, crybaby, cry...."
The mocking chant broke off suddenly when Timelord, with the most ferocious 
shout he could muster, leapt onto the back of the closest boy, bringing the two
of them crashing to the ground.
The one who had been standing over Rollik's sobbing form turned to see what was
happening, but he too fell to the ground, grimacing in pain as Rollik, with a 
seemingly miraculous recovery, punched him in a very tender spot.
Timelord leapt up quickly and motioned to Rollik.
"Let's get out of here!" he shouted.
Together they turned to run out of the trap, but were blocked by the other two 
boys.  Behind them, they could hear the two they had downed approaching.  
Desperately they stood back to back, knowing they were bound to lose this fight.
There was a flare of torchlight at the mouth of the cleft, and an armed figure 
appeared.
"What's going on?" he shouted.
The boys took one look, and panicked.
"The guard!" one of them shouted, and they ran for the exit.  Three of them got
away, but one, the boy Rollik had punched, was caught by the guard as he 
attempted to flee.
Rollik and Timelord walked slowly out of the rocks, relieved that they had been
spared what would have been a violent fate.  Rollik turned to Timelord.
"My idea worked, didn't it?" he said with a smile.
"Idea?" queried Timelord, puzzled as to what he meant.
"You know, to pretend that I was scared of them so you could creep up on them 
easier," Rollik explained.
"I guess it did," said Timelord, thinking it over as they emerged into the 
light.

The experiences of that night made the two close friends.  They were 
inseparable, whether it be during classes, playing in the sun, or even just 
traveling along.  They made elaborate boyhood plans, each promising the other 
undying friendship.
Their parents looked upon their friendship favourably, although like all boys 
they could be very trying.  Their frequent escapades, although just harmless 
boyhood fun, would often leave the adults around them wondering what they could
possibly do to protect themselves.
Their most common trick was to "acquire", as Timelord put it, various foodstuffs
from the kitchens and store wagons.  Their usual method was for Rollik to 
brazenly go up to those on kitchen duty and ask them all sorts of boyish 
questions, like "what goes in there?', or "is that for the guards?", or "is this
really hot?"  While the adults were occupied with answering his questions and 
trying to keep him out of trouble, Timelord would quietly sneak in, take what he
was after, and sneak out again.  After a while those who were regularly in the 
kitchens realised what they were up to, but it was a rare occasion that Timelord
or Rollik were caught.
As the weeks and months past, the caravan would its way slowly through the land.
One week before Timelord's ninth birthday, the caravan made camp near the 
Bottleneck Pass, and the Council met for some serious discussion.  Gallan was 
the first to speak.
"My friends," he began, "this has indeed been a momentous journey, one that I am
sure will be of great benefit to your land when you return.  I feel privileged 
to have been part of it.
"Now, however, it is time for us to part company for a while, as I have some
business in the Barony of Stifer that cannot wait.  Yet I will be with you not
only in spirit but in reputation, as I now instruct my personal guard to remain
with the caravan until its return, providing protection for the miscreants that
lurk along the remainder of your route."
This caused some consternation amongst the assembled leaders.  Astoph rose.
"You shall indeed be missed," he said gravely, "but we thank you for the 
continued protection for the rest of our journey.  Your companionship and
wisdom has been invaluable, and we look forward to our reunion in Verland."
The next morning Rollik and his family departed, accompanied by a half-dozen 
guards.  Timelord stood forlornly at his mother's side, sad that his friend had
to go, but he knew that they would meet again in Verland.
The passage past the mountains down to the sea was long, hot and dusty, as that
region had been gripped by drought for some time.  Although the caravan had
plenty of stored water, it was still an uncomfortable time.
Finally they reached the coast.  Astoph decided to halt the caravan for a few
days to give the people and animals some time to recover from the journey.
Timelord's excitement grew as he could smell the scent of the ocean in the air 
getting stronger and stronger.  Finally it appeared before them, a glittering 
blue mass of water, stretching as far as the eye could see.
The next couple of days were sheer bliss for the boy as he played in the sea 
(under the watchful eyes of his mother), built sand castles and collected 
shells.  He was quite disappointed when, a few days later, he was told they were
due to leave the next afternoon.
The combination of disappointment at leaving the sea and excitement at the 
prospect of seeing Rollik again meant that Timelord slept only fitfully.  Not 
long before dawn he gave up on getting any more sleep.  He rose, dressed, and 
went out to look at the ocean one last time.
The morning was cool. but pleasant.  As he walked along the beach he thought of
the last few months, and wondered what sights he would see in Generica.
Not long after dawn he turned to head back to the camp.  As he approached, he 
noticed some distance away on the landward side of the camp what appeared to be
strange glittering lights hovering just over the horizon.  Curious, he stopped 
for a moment to watch.  The early dawn light made them appear surreal as they 
floated towards the camp.
As the sun rose higher the strange sight became clear.  The lights resolved into
bright spears and swords, the sun gleaming from their tips.  Men on horseback 
and afoot charged towards them, faint cries now reaching the camp.  Closer and 
closer they came, and Timelord stood as if frozen to the spot.
Suddenly the guards caught sight of them.  Orders were frantically shouted, with
men rushing about everywhere.  Within a few minutes the whole camp was roused, 
and Timelord, the sudden activity breaking through his shock, rushed back to his
family's tent.
Captain Skerg appeared, hurriedly jamming his plumed helmet on his head.  He 
took one look at the approaching raiders and turned a pasty white, his knees 
trembling.  The incoming force numbered around a hundred, far outnumbering the 
guards that protected the caravan.  But the guards were trained fighters,
battle-hardened and ready; at least, that's what Captain Skerg always said.
The men in the camp hurriedly grabbed weapons, either conventional or makeship.
There was no time to form a plan of battle, for the enemy was upon them.
They appeared to have been drawn from all the lands,. and there lack of uniforms
spoke more loudly than words that they were mercenaries.  They fell upon the 
hapless traders, hacking their way through flesh and bone in an orgy of 
destruction.
Hoelt took a firmer grip on the old long sword, thankful that he had at least 
some instruction on how to use it.  He swung desperately now,  defending himself
and his family grimly against the attackers, and waited until the guards mounted
some sort of counter attack.
A sudden disturbance behind him made him turn, and to his shock he saw Captain 
Skerg and two lieutenants saddled and preparing to flee.  He ran towards them.
"What to you think you are doing?" he screamed at Skerg.  To his left he saw 
Bravya and Timelord peering out of their tent, the fear evident on their faces.
"I'm saving my skin," shouted Skerg in reply, "which is more than I can say for
you!  I always said this was madness!  It was doomed from the start!"
"But you swore to defend us!" Hoelt couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"I'll not throw my life away for nothing!"  Skerg looked around, sweat pouring 
off him.  "How you die is up to you.  Me, I'm out of here!"
With that he wheeled his horse, and with his lieutenants following, galloped 
madly up the beach.
Hoelt ran back to his family.
"You have to get out of here," he told them hurriedly, "Skerg has deserted us."
"But, but," stammered Bravya, "he promised to.."
"I know," interrupted Hoelt, "but he's gone all the same.  Come on."
They ran from the tent, Hoelt leading them away from the main fighting.  Most of
the guards had remained behind, but without proper leadership and badly 
outnumbered, it was only a matter of time before they were all killed.  
Their destination was the horse pens, and Hoelt hoped to get his wife and son on
a horse and out of the fighting.  But as they rounded a series of wagons ahead of them they saw two mounted raiders, who charged, swords swinging.
"Get out of here!" shouted Hoelt as he stepped forward to meet the attack.
Bravya and Timelord staggered back as the two bore down on Hoelt.  He swung at 
the first, cutting him out of the saddle.  He tried to avoid the blow from the 
second, but the attacker's sword caught him across his back, sending him to the
ground.
"Hoelt!" screamed Bravya.  She scrambled towards her fallen husband, who was 
forcing himself to his knees.  Using his sword as a lever he staggered to his 
feet, waving his wife away as the raider turned to attack again.  Hoelt advanced
again, trying to put some space between himself and his wife.  Weakly raising 
his sword he tried to defend himself, but to no avail.  The raider's sword 
crashed through his defenses, severing his head from his shoulders.  Quickly 
shifting his weight the raider leaned down, caught Bravya around the waist with
his left arm, and was gone.


 The Blade of Malchrntyne (CJ)| There comes a time when the jewels cease to
 Drummond College D220        | sparkle, and the gold loses its lustre, and
 x 2408/2438                  | the throne room becomes a prison - and all
 There can be only one.       | that remains is a father's love for his child