Where did he get those wonderful toys?

Anna and Audry listened calmly as I told them how I came to be here. They asked no questions. When I was finished, they sat quietly for several moments. Finally, Anna broke the silence.

"Well, you are insane, aren't you?"

"The perfect adventurer," Saul said. "I did mention that he arrived in a muddy grove without leaving tracks?"

"Yes, you did," Audry said. "Magic can allow one to do that."

"Point taken," Marc said. "Still, look at him. His clothes, his boots, his...what do you call that?"

"A poncho," I said. "You should see some of the other stuff I have." A thought hit me. "I'll show you." I reached into my pockets. I had chapstick, eyedrops, my house keys, the car alarm control, and a pocket knife. They each took something. Anna liked the light on my car alarm control. She pressed the button repeatedly to light it. I imagined my car alarm going on and off back in the garage.

"And what is this for?" Anna asked.

"Car alarm," I said. Everyone looked at me strangely. "A car is a transportation vehicle."

"Like a carriage?" Marc asked.

"Something like that. But there are no horses."

"Then how does it move?" Audry asked.

"It has an engine," I said. "It...well, the engine runs by burning fuel. The engine itself causes wheels to spin, which pushes the car forward."

They seemed more confused than before, so I went on. "Anyway, that device activates and deactivates a system on the car that alerts me when someone tries to break into it."

"And how does it do that?"Saul asked.

"For starters it makes a very loud noise," I said. "It then...." I tried to find away to describe the ignition kill switch. "It then prevents anyone from using it."

They seemed to accept this, but I could still see the confusion in their faces.

"What is this?" Saul asked. He held up my eyedrops.

"It's a liquid that helps moisturize your eyes," I said. "You know, when they dry out."

Saul shook the bottle. "How does it work?"

I showed him how to unscrew the lid--something that the others found more fascinating than any of my other items. "You then squeeze some of the liquid into your eye."

Saul looked at it for a moment. He then pointed at his eye and squeezed it as hard as he could. The liquid shot out of the bottle like water from a fire hose. He cursed as he dropped the bottle and rubbed his eye. "Your people have strange customs."

Anna found the complexity of the keys exciting and wanted desperately to see the locks. I wondered what exactly it was she did for a living, and if perhaps I should nail all of my stuff down.

I explained the chapstick to Audry, who immediately put some on before I could stop her. Apparently, spreading of germs is not fully understood in this world. She pursed her lips, tasting some of the chapstick. She frowned, but she didn't wipe off the chapstick from her lips.

"Now tell me," I said. "Where in the world would you get things like this."

"Magic," Anna says. "I say it's magic."

Marc spoke, but I didn't understand the words. I started to ask him to repeat it, but then I realized that the words were nonsensical. Soon, a glow appeared between Marc's outstretched hands. After a moment, a ring on Audry's finger glowed. She looked at it, startled for a moment, and then relaxed as if she knew what it was that caused it.

"They are not magical," Marc said. "Though your ring is."

"Family heirloom," Audry said. She covered the ring with her hand

"No, they're not magical," I said. "They're...well, they're just common items manufactured on my world. That's the best way I can describe it. I have more in my pack."

"Really?" Marc said. "I'd be very interested in seeing them. At a later time, of course."

"Yeah," Anna said. "I think it's about time we get down to business."

"And that would be?" Saul asked.

"Rufus and Burne," Marc said. "Since they have not been able to find any adventurers to help them...."

"Oh, is that why you wanted me here?" Audry said. "I thought it might be because you enjoyed my company."

"You know we enjoy your company, Audry," Saul said. "You know, for a paladin you've got a bit of an attitude."

Audry sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I've been under a little stress lately."

"Yeah," Anna said. "A murdered father is one definition of stress." Anna grimaced, looking at me. She didn't want me to know, but I didn't acknowledge her.

"Your father?" I asked. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Thank you," Audry said. She glanced at Anna irritably. "It's been a year now, but...they didn't find his killer."

"And it's unlikely they will," Saul said. "I'd say things in Nyrond are worse than anyone thought."

"And we can tell that story later, okay?" Anna said, giving me a quick glance. "So, should we go see Burne and Rufus now?"

"I already have," Marc said. "They would like to meet with us later tonight."

"At the tower?" Saul asked.

"Here, actually," Marc said. "Along with the mayor and Ostler."

"Ostler?" Audry rubbed her chin. "What does he have to do with it?"

It took me a moment to place the name. The innkeeper!

"Burne wouldn't say," Marc added.

"I wonder if Ostler's back in the game again," Saul said.

"I bet he never left," Anna said. "I think he misses the good ol' days of mayhem with the temple." She nodded at me. "He should be there, too."

"You want me there?" I asked. "I thought you didn't trust me."

"I don't," she said. "This way I can keep an eye on you." She grinned at me and stood. "Shall we?"

In the Inn

I saw another burned farm on the way to the inn. The farmer and his families lived out of a small tent while they rebuilt their homes. And they didn't toil alone. Other towns folk helped them. As in my world, people in small towns help each other under no conditions. Part of me wanted to run over and help them. Unfortunately, I had no doubt that cities here were the same as cities back home.

The Inn was not what I expected. Instead of a dilapidated old structure I saw a well maintained edifice, better maintained then many buildings back on Earth. The freshly white washed fence gleamed in the sunlight, as if it had been painted only hours before. The sign showed, of all things, a wench. She smiled as she carried a tray of ale mugs, welcoming all passers by.

Well, that explains the name of the inn.

The porch creaked as we walked to the front door. Their boots made for heavy steps, while my sneakers gave barely a whisper. They didn't seem to notice.

The door creaked open, and a dozen smells overwhelmed me. Strong ale, cooked food of all kinds, human sweat--it nearly drove me away. I held my breath and strode forward. A cacophony assaulted me along with the smells. Boisterous people became more boisterous as they continued to drink ale. Smoke from what I assumed was pipe weed filled the air, mingling with smoke from a roaring fire that seemed to me would take down the whole structure. I coughed as I followed Marc and Saul through the crowd.

The men seemed gruff and angry, but when I made eye contact the nodded politely. They looked worn down and tired, but not tired enough to keep them from enjoying themselves. I saw no fighting or evidence of aggression between any of them. Everyone knows everyone in a small town, and its hard to start a fight with someone when they provide grain to the town, or repair your wagon, or brew your beer.

The only women were the serving wenches. You would never have found them serving drinks in most bars. Most were perhaps twenty pounds over weight. Back on Earth the rail thin, rib-sporting, bleach-blonde ski bunnies were considered attractive. These women would have been considered not only unattractive, but unhealthy by many health nuts. Here, it was the norm. Staring at those plump breasts--which I still have not gotten used to--makes me think the people on Earth are a little too up tight.

By the time we reached the stairs, I decided I could get to like this place. Even if it did have dragons, in spite of the smells and the danger of bandits (which didn't seem to hamper the party at all).

Each stair bent as I stepped on it, convincing me that I would never make it to the top. I did make it, and I was relieved the second floor was as sturdy as the first floor. Saul and I followed Marc down a narrow hall. Muffled voices spilled out of a common room near the top of the stairs. Closed doors lined the rest of the hall, each leading to private rooms. The noise from below could barely be heard. I wondered what kind of construction in such a world allowed that, and then I wondered if perhaps it was magic that did the trick.

Marc stopped at one door and knocked three times. The door creaked open.

"Eh? That you, Marc?"

At first I didn't see the source of the high pitched voice. The door opened further, and I saw a woman who stood five feet high. For a moment I thought she was a young child, until I saw her firm breasts. I doubted they had push-up bras on this world. She had her brown hair tied back into a single braid, revealing her pointed ears. Two elves in one day, I thought. She wore leather pants and a dark shirt with varying colors--it looked like good camouflage for night time. She looked up at Marc with large, brown eyes.

"About time. Did big boy show up finally?" She finally noticed Saul standing there. She gave a short squeal and then hugged him tightly. He returned the hug, picking her up in the air.

"You are late," she said. "Again."

"Well, the water clock doesn't fit in my pack," Saul said. He put her down and held her at arms length. "Staying out of trouble?"

"Of course! What kind of girl do you think...." She trailed off when she saw me. "Uh, you're making new friends, I see."

Saul glanced back at me. "And this is bad?"

"That depends," she said. She put her hands on her hips as she looked up at me. Her small stature and near child-like voice made her seem like a child, but the shape of her body made it perfectly clear she was a full grown woman.

Hey, I'm a guy. I notice these kinds of things.

"Anna, I'd like you to meet John Carter," Saul said. "John, Anna Liveoak."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"Yes, most men are," she said. "You men know better than this. That last thing we need these days are strangers." She wagged a finger at Marc. "You especially know this."

"John is a unique case," Marc said. "It's a story you might find interesting."

"Oh, I've heard stories before," Anna said. "Sometimes they are just that." She glared at me. "Stories."

"Look, I'm not a bad guy," I said. "I'm harmless, really."

"If I had a gold piece for every man who said that and that tried to put a hand up my shirt, I would be a rich girl."

Can't blame them for trying. "You know, I'm very new to these parts. If there are people out there you don't trust chances are I don't know them, even if they live next door."

"Maybe you should hear his story first," Marc said.

Anna looked me over thoroughly. She raised an eyebrow. My pants, my poncho, my boots--I was surprised it hadn't raised more eyebrows as we came up here.

"He is pretty conspicuous," she said. "Maybe he's...oh all right." She tapped Saul on his chest. "He is your responsibility if he gets out of hand." She turned and locked her door. Putting the key in her pocket, she continued almost to the end of the hall. She knocked three times and then two times on a door. After a moment, it opened just wide enough for someone to look out.

"It's us," Anna said, and glanced back at me. "Plus one more."

The door opened further. A young, blonde woman stood in the entry way, looking at us. She wore what looked like plain clothes, but they were in very new condition. Her hair on one side was tucked behind her ear. She was human, about my size, very slim...and very beautiful.

A world full of beautiful women. The only way things could be better was if there were no dragons. Or bandits. Or a number of other beasties that I could imagine on an intellectual level but could not truly appreciate until they stood before me ready to disembowel me.

"Glad to see you made it back in one piece," she said to Saul.

"Likewise," Saul said. He started to move toward her as if to hug her as he did Anna, but she was too busy looking at me.

"I'm sure Anna made it clear that strangers are probably a bad idea," the woman said.

Marc looked at me briefly. "Well, I can understand your hesitation, but--"

"But nothing," she said. "If the Nyrondese militia...." She stopped, looking me up and down. My clothes, my poncho--no one was more out of place than me. If only she could have seen my pack, which I left back at Marc's. Hell, if they could all see what I had in there.

"You are a strange one, aren't you?" she said at length.

"My name is John," I said. "John Carter. I take it you are Audry?"

"That depends on who is asking," she said. She opened the door all the way. "Well, everyone come on in. If you're going to explain yourselves we might as well be comfortable."

She invited us in. Her room was simple. A bed, a table with three chairs, and a window. Anna and Audry sat on the bed, while Saul pulled out chairs for the rest of us. We sat opposite each other, staring at each other like sophomore boys and girls at the high school dance.

"Ah, different rooms?" Saul asked. "You two don't enjoy each other's company?"

"We are incognito," Anna said. "This way we don't look like we know each other."

"Everyone in town knows us," Saul said.

"But not strangers," Marc said. "It's a simple precaution. If anyone asks they are sent to Anna's room."

"Where they get a nasty surprise," Anna said. "By the way, it's a bad idea to go in there. Lots of nasty surprises."

"Traps?" I asked. She only glared at me. "Traps. Okay, I'll watch my step."

"All right," Audry said. "You'll have to understand I'm a little wary of strangers."

"I understand," I said. "I wish I knew how to prove that I'm trustworthy."

"Well," Anna said. "How about you start with why you are here."

Marc and Saul looked at me. I took a deep breath and began my story.

A friend's grave

I counted six fresh graves, including the one we stood over.

Jaroo Ashenstaff.

"A simple epitaph," Saul said. "He would have liked it."

"Even the priests of Saint Cuthbert came to the funeral," Marc said. "They gave a nice eulogy."

"What is being done?" Saul said.

"The Mayor has asked Verbobonc for aid. In response, they sent a contingent of troops. They should arrive any day now. They will help with defense, but that's about it."

"And Burne and Rufus?" I asked.

"They have put a call out to adventurers." Marc smiled. "It seems that adventurers have become something of an inter-kingdom police force, doesn't it?"

"Any word?" I asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. Most are south in the Flinty Hills. Thus far, none have come here. Unless you count us."

Us? I hadn't exactly thought of myself as an adventurer. What could I do? I trained in Judo and Kenjutsu, and I was pretty good at both. What level was I? First? Second? Probably first.

But it didn't really matter. This was real. Real swords, real magic...and real death. My martial arts skills might not be good enough to take on battle hardened soldiers. If I went along with this, I would probably die. Then again, I did want something different in my life, and this certainly qualified--though it wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

I'm not a courageous fellow. I never have been. I instinctively run from danger. But if I could do something the change this, well by God I had to try. I'll never know if I can handle the danger unless I try.

"What do we do?" I asked.

Saul raised an eyebrow. "We? This could be dangerous."

"Yeah, well...." I looked at the graves again and wondered how many more would be dug unless something was done. "There was a wise man on my world who once said, 'A guy can't go around doing nothing all the time,' and don't want to wander around like a fifth wheel. Besides, I want to help. If I can do anything at all, I have to."

They looked at each other and shrugged. "Well, the more the merrier," Marc said.

"Time to see Audry and Anna?" Saul asked.

"Yes," Marc said. "And then to the church."

"For prayer?" Saul asked. "Gods know we could use some aid."

"For information," Marc said. "I know someone who can help.

We took one last look at Jaroo's grave, and then left for the inn. The inn. The Inn of the Welcome Wench. I would have been ecstatic if it weren't for the reality of the situation. A good friend of theirs died, a town was being attacked by an armed force masquerading as bandits, and war was brewing to the south.

In short, we were in deep doodoo.

As we left the graveyard, Saul turned to me. "Who was that?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The wise man you mentioned. Who was he?"

"Oh," I said. "John Wayne."

A friend's home

We saw two more burned farms on the way to Marc's house. I couldn't tell how the fires started. It looked as if all parts of the house burned at once, as if everything simply burst into flames. We didn't stop to inspect them. Saul wanted to get moving.

Finally, we reached Marc's house. He lived on the southern end of Hommlet, just off one of the main roads. The house appeared nondescript. It was as plain as any other house at first glance, but as we walked up the porch I noticed that the house was much better made than the others. The boards were perfectly flush with one another. The chimney bricks were all one, single color. I saw no garden in front of the house, but the grass around the house stood only a few inches high. I knelt and ran my fingers through it. It had not been cut, but each blade was as tall as every other blade. The grass had simply stopped growing.

I stood and followed Saul on to the porch. It creaked gently as our footsteps echoed on the floor boards. I saw symbols carved along the door. I looked closer. The symbols weren't "carved," rather they simply rested on the door. They weren't painted there, nor were they etched or penciled, or any other method I could think of. They were simply there.

Saul put a hand on my shoulder. "Careful. Those weren't there last time I was here. They might be dangerous."

I stepped back, and as I did Saul reached for the door to knock.

"Wait, I thought you said they'd be dangerous."

"To strangers, yes," Saul said. "For a friend, no."

"You sure about that."

Saul knocked on the door. He waited for a few seconds. Nothing happened.

"I am now."

I heard mumbling on the other side of the door. Saul took a few steps back. "Get ready to run."

"What? What's going on?"

"You hear that?"

"You mean the mumbling? What--?" I heard a low, rumble starting to drown out the mumbling. Soon it became more intense. The rumble rose in pitch quickly and then suddenly. I heard footsteps approaching the door.

Saul said nothing as the door opened and revealed a man. I found myself relieved that he did not have pointed ears. He stood just under six feet. His brown hair was cut short and neat, and his face was smooth. He seemed to be in his late twenties. He stared at me briefly, his eyes wide with wonder. After a moment, he looked at Saul and smiled broadly.

"What kept you?" he said.

"She hid very well," Saul said. "You think Anna taught her that?"

"Probably." Both of them laughed and embraced. "It's been a long time my friend."

"Too long," Saul said. "Marc, I would like you to meet John Carter. John, this is Marco Sitaca."

"Please call me Marc, Mr. Carter," March said, and extended his hand. I accepted it.

"Please call me John," I said.

He invited us inside. His home was simple and plain. No frills, no paintings or pictures--though it occurred to me that paintings and pictures are probably much rarer in this world. All in all, it looked like a bachelor's home.

We sat at a wooden table big enough for four. Marc offered me lemonade. I accepted, though it looked as if it were made from muddy water. I sipped it gingerly, and found it surprisingly tasty.

"I see you found Audry," Marc said.

Saul nodded. "She arrived then?"

"She has a room at the inn." Marc grimaced ever so slightly, looking at me. "John, I don't mean to be rude, but...."

"Look, I understand," I said. "Some strange guy walks in out of nowhere and you don't if you can trust him."

"Well, you haven't exactly been forthcoming about where you are from," Saul said.

"Fair enough," I said. As I finished my lemonade, I wondered if it was time to throw caution to the wind. Then again, I wasn't entirely sure if I could trust them.

Ah, screw it.

"I'm from a city called Denver. It's located in a country called the United States of America on a world called Earth."

I'm sure you understand that on Earth if I up and stated, "My name is John Carter and I am from the village of Hommlet just south of Verbobonc on the planet Oerth," I would be locked up wearing a nice white jacket with very long sleeves (which conveniently can be tied off behind my back). On this world--a world where magic is a real, everyday thing--people are a little more accepting.

I hoped.

"Well, that's not something you hear everyday," Marc said.

"That's putting it mildly," Saul said. "I think we'd both appreciate it if you could provide more details."

So I did. I avoided trying to explain my job. How do you explain that you develop web applications to someone who doesn't even understand what the internet is? Instead, I concentrated on how I hated my job, disliked my life in general, and then went camping. Next thing I knew, I saw a dragon fly over my head.

"It makes sense, actually," Saul said. "When I met him there were no tracks in the area. He managed to set camp in the woods without leaving any tracks in spite of rain the night before."

"Hold on a moment," Marc said. "A dragon? Saul, you didn't say anything about that."

"Well, we just got started," Saul said. "That dragon wouldn't have anything to do with what happened in town, did it?"

"No," Marc said. "It's something much worse than that, I'm afraid. Hommlet has been subject to attacks by bandits."

"Bandits did all of that?" I said.

"Not at first," Marc said. "At first they stole from the trading post and from some farms, but they never took anything very valuable. Many people found livestock missing, but still had gold or even platinum in their homes. Break ins occurred all over town, but rarely was anything valuable taken. And none were taken captive."

"The Badgers used to be bandits," Saul said. "You'd think they'd be able to nab one."

"That's just it," Marc said. He finished his own lemonade. "I don't think they were bandits. They infiltrated town, took a few valuables but not as many as they could have gotten away with. They were spotted in every part of town. One was found scaling the walls of Burne's and Rufus' tower. He jumped to his death before they could capture him."

"Jumped to his death?" Saul rubbed his chin. "Bandits are a little too selfish to take their own life to help their brethren."

"You think they were doing reconnaissance?" I asked.

"That's the likely scenario," Marc said.

"The man took his life so as to not divulge any information about his fellows," Saul said. "That takes dedication. What did they find on his body?"

"Nothing spectacular," Marc said. "Light armor of hardened leather, a couple of daggers.... One interesting thing, though. His gear was in excellent condition. Not what one would expect from bandits who are short on gold."

"So if they were doing recon," I said, "then it very well could be a prelude to an invasion."

"So that's why they're finishing up the keep," Saul said. "But an invasion from where?"

"Yes, that's the other bit of news." Marc let out a long sigh. "About ten months ago, all contact with Celene was lost." Marc looked at me. "That's a kingdom south of here, ruled entirely by elves."

I nodded thoughtfully. I knew where Celene was--south of Hommlet, and south of the Flinty Hills--and I knew its history to a limited extent. I told them about myself and where I was from, but I didn't know if I should tell them that in my world we know of their world, but only as a game. To people on Earth, the Flanaess exists in fiction, and it is really only known by pimply kids who spend hours tossing oddly shaped dice in someone's basement...just like I used to do.

"Shortly thereafter," Marc continued, "the Flinty dwarves reported excursions into their hills by armed forces. The elves usually keep to themselves. They don't want to deal with 'lesser' races like humans and dwarves."

"Not all of us are like that, I assure you," Saul said to me with a wink.

"Indeed," Marc said. "It seems the people of Celene have sticks in orifices where there shouldn't be."

Saul laughed. "Still, they must have a set of large ones if they really think they can invade the Flinty Hills. The hill dwarves know that area better than anyone, and they are good fighters to boot."

"That's the problem," Marc said. "Elves did not attack them. Humans did."

"Humans?" Saul interlaced his fingers and rested them on the table. "Oh my."

"Exactly," Marc said. "Celene elves would never have anything to do with humans. They wouldn't allow them in country for any reason."

"Then the humans were there without permission," I said. "That means--"

"They invaded," Saul finished. ""I guess that explains the 'bandits,' and Burne's and Rufus' desire to finish the keep in such a hurry. I take it this army burned those farms?"

"Not precisely," Marc said. "So far, this army has not been able to breach the Flinty Hills. Verbobonc has sent aid to the dwarves in the form of troops and supplies. Even adventurers have journeyed there, seeking their fortune. Frankly, I find it unlikely they will get here anytime soon."

"It's the bandits," I said. "They burned the farms."

"They stuck to minor raids here and there up until about four months ago," Marc said. "That's when started attacking the town in numbers. The Badgers managed to keep them at bay, but the bandits' numbers have been steadily growing. Very recently they attacked with magic." Marc gestured outside. "Well placed fireballs destroyed some homes, as you saw."

"How many...?"

"Too many." Marc shook his head. "It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough."

Saul frowned. "And Jaroo?"

Marc hesitated before answering. "He fell. He saved a number of people. Without him, many more would have died."

They were quiet for a time. I remembered the name from when I played the game. I remember that the character I had was a druid himself and had met Jaroo. Upon entering town, I remember thinking that I might meet him in person. Now that wasn't going to happen. I never met him, and I never truly knew him, but I found myself missing him.

"They buried him not far from here," Marc said.

"I want to see," Saul said.

Marc nodded. We stood without another word and went to see their fallen friend.

On the Road Again

Hommlet.

For anyone who has ever played that old D&D game, you may remember a picture in the beginning of the module Temple of Elemental Evil. It was a picture of what one sees when they first go into Hommlet.

Well, it doesn't quite look like that.

As we--that would be Saul and I--crossed the hill crest, the forest cleared almost immediately. Fields covered the valley below, dotted by the occasional farmhouse and requisite barn. In the fields oxen pulled plows at the behest of the farmer behind them. And everything was green. I had not seen so much green in...well, for as long as a city boy can remember.

Not a single cloud could be seen, despite the evidence of the recent rain. It was the clearest blue ever. I inhaled deeply. It was the absolute freshest air I had ever smelled. It was almost too much for this city boy. I closed my eyes as we walked, enjoying the sensations of the great outdoors.

"You're not going to pass out again, are you?"

"Huh? Oh, no. Look sorry about that, I don't know what came over me."

It was a lie, of course. Whether Saul knew or not, I couldn't tell. Either way, he seemed satisfied.

"Not a problem," he said.

Wagon wheels and run off from recent rain had rutted the road. Mosquitos haunted the remaining mud puddles. Unspoiled maple trees stood just off the road, along with some shrubs. During our hike I felt as if something was wrong. Looking at the shrubs and the surrounding grass, it hit me. The standard lawn grass so common back home was nowhere to be seen. Wild grass grew several inches high and covered every part of the land that wasn't covered in wheat.

"John?" Saul said.

"Yes?"

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you going to Hommlet?"

I cleared my throat. I didn't know if I should explain my odd situation or not. It occurred to me this was a world of magic. The idea of people traveling between worlds was probably more believable to people here then on my world. Still, discretion seemed best.

"I'm not really heading for Hommlet," I said, "at least not specifically. I'm just sort of traveling."

"Adventurer?"

I shrugged. "More like a wanderer. No particular destination, really." I gave a short laugh. "I'm on a walkabout, you could say."

"Walkabout?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's something of a custom on my worl--back home. When you need to find yourself, you wander around until you do."

"I see," Saul said. "And how long have you been doing this...walkabout?"

"Not long," I said. "And you? Why are you going to Hommlet."

"To meet an old friend," he said. "I haven't seen him in about a year. I guess you could say I've been on my own walkabout, but I wasn't looking for myself."

"What were you looking for?"

"Another friend," he said. "Luckily, I found her."

"Her?"

He nodded. "She disappeared about a year ago. I...." He looked at me as we walked. "I'm not sure I should--"

"That's all right," I said. "It's none of my business."

We walked on. We didn't speak for the next half hour or so. I thought about taking out my watch and checking the time, and then realized the ridiculousness of such an act, not to mention the explanations I would have to give to Saul. The sun was my time piece now.

Ahead I saw more buildings along the edge of the road. Some looked weathered and old. Others looked as if they had been built in recent months. Regardless of age, none had the refined look of homes on Earth. They were likely built by the people who lived in them, and served little more than to keep the rain out. In spite of the shape of the buildings, the people who lived in there loved their homes. Gardens surrounded many homes, along with picket fences and trees. Each home was a little slice of heaven.

"A prosperous town," I said.

"Yes," Saul said. "More so than when I last came here." He gestured toward a hill top. "And it looks like Burne and Rufus are getting closer to finishing."

The names were instantly familiar. I looked up at the hillside, and though I expected to see the Keep the enormity of it overwhelmed me. It was easily the largest building in the village, sitting on a hill like a giant watchdog. The complex rested upon two hills. An outer wall surrounded both hills, connecting to a central complex on the southside of the keep. Towers lined the wall every hundred feet or so.

The stone watchtower on the western hill stood higher than anything else. Guards walked along the top, watching the countryside for miles around. The main keep rested on the eastern hill. The walls surrounding the keep itself looked perfectly square, with a small, circular tower on each corner. The main keep stood slightly higher than its walls. Workers walked along the incomplete battlements, carefully moving stones into place. Others continued to dig ditches and add defenses to the lower part of the Keep. The entire complex was in various stages of repair, but it looked mostly finished.

"How much longer until their done, do you think?" I asked.

"Not long," Saul said. "A month. Maybe two. I'm surprised, frankly."

"Why's that?"

"A year ago the outer wall wasn't even in place. They had some of the basic structures in place on the keep, but they only thing that was anywhere near being finished was the tower." He frowned. "They got themselves going in a damn hurry, that's for sure. The question is why?"

"Bandits?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Bandits have never been that big of a problem, at least not recently."

"What about not so recently?"

"A few years ago some bandits took up residence in an abandoned moathouse east of here," Saul said. "They were a problem, but some adventurers took care of them." He gestured toward the Keep. "Only Burne and Rufus survived. They decided to retire. They've been planning that keep of theirs for a while, but once they got the tower finished they stopped. Things got pretty quiet and it didn't seem necessary to finish it."

"So they chased off all the bandits?" I asked.

"Not all of them." He pointed to a man standing nearby. He wore armor similar to Saul's and carried a sword. "Most are still here. Burne's Badgers. Burne turned those boys around, made them into Hommlet's elite guards." He looked up at the Keep again. "Marc probably knows what's going on."

"Marc?"

"The friend I mentioned before," Saul said. "Marco Sitaca. He lives here. C'mon, I'll show you."

We continued into town. Farm houses grew more numerous as we continued east. In the distance I saw a large building, perhaps the largest in town save the keep. I wondered if that building was what I thought it was.

Saul stopped. "Oh boy."

"What?"

"I wonder if that's part of the reason Burne and Rufus rushed to finish the keep."

I looked at where Saul pointed. Ahead, where the road intersected, a farmhouse stood. Rather, the remains of a farmhouse stood. Schorched timbers remained, but little more. Another gutted farmhouse was further up the road.

We continued up the road. In the distance I saw more burned buildings. To the north a river that bisected the town. Across from it, sitting on a hill, was a large building that had been reduced to embers some time ago. Further east, amidst a copse of trees a column of smoke rose into the air. Saul stared at it, and grumbled.

"Jaroo," he said. "Damn."

"Jaroo?"

"A Druid," Saul said. "He's been here about as long as the village." He quickened his pace. "Gods, I hope he's okay."

I had to run to catch up to him. "Are we going to check on him."

"Oh if anyone can take care of himself it's Jaroo," Saul said. "It's Marc I want to see. He'll have answers." Saul broke into a dead run. "If he's still alive."

Where am I?

I think it was a Tuesday. I can't remember for sure. I had my watch, but I kept it in my backpack. I had no desire to know the day of the week, much less what time it was.

It was morning, I know that much at least.

I had just woken up. I found a nice little copse of trees near a creek. Perfect for camping. I pulled out an MRE for lunch. That would be a Meals Ready to Eat packet, otherwise known to the US troops as a "Meals Rejected by Everyone." I couldn't disagree more. Each packet had three thousand calories of tasty food. They had everything--chicken and rice, meatloaf, even eggs. And each one had a small packet of candy. I normally had about five days worth of the stuff with me when I camped. This time I had two weeks worth.

As I said, part of me didn't want to go back.

My back hurt from sleeping on the ground. I left my tent in the pack and slept on top of my sleeping bag. It didn't compare to my waterbed, but I didn't care. I was in the wilderness that I loved. The birds, the trees, the mountains....

The mountains....

I stood and ran to the edge of the copse of trees and faced west.

"What the...?"

The mountains were gone.

I ran further into the open. The hiking trail was gone, as was the small little pond that was about a hundred feet away. The small copse of trees was no longer small. I was at the edge of a forest that stretched far to the north and south.

Fear overcame me, and I ran back to the safety of the trees. I have been kidnapped, I thought. Someone drugged me, moved me and my gear to a new location, and then placed everything (including me) exactly in the same place relative to my original camping place.

Right.

I looked at the ground. It was muddy, but I didn't recall it raining the night before. The only foot prints were mine. There were no tire tracks either. I searched my gear twice. Everything was there. Whoever moved me had taken nothing. And they left no tracks. Did they move me by helicopter?

I shook my head. Occam's razor, I thought. I was coming up with a complex answer when there was probably a simpler one.

Sure, I thought. You just teleported too...wherever you are.

I sat for a while, thinking. No other explanations came to mind. I thought about digging out my watch and looking at the time but I didn't see the point. The only thing I could think of was to break camp and find something that resembled civilization. I shrugged, packed my gear, and headed out. I got perhaps ten steps before I saw him running toward me.

He ran full speed to my position, waving his hands at me. I let my backpack fall and took a defensive stance. I'd never had to use my martial arts training in a real situation. Fortunately, I didn't have to. The man turned away and ran into the forest.

"Get down man!" he hissed, and then dived behind a bush.

"Who are you?"

He shushed me, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just do what I tell you! It's a...oh Gods."

He pointed upward. As he did a shadow swept over the forest. I looked up, and my jaw hit the ground.

It was huge. Its wingspan stretched easily over a hundred feet. Its length from head to tail was almost as long. The large, thick body sailed over me as if it were a balloon. The belly was a dull pink, but the tail and the wings were a bright red.

The large wings flapped once, sending a wind through the trees that cleaned the area of debris. I fell over, only to be caught by the stranger who hid in the forest.

"Dragon," he said. "That's what I was trying to tell you."

"Dragon?" I gingerly stepped out of the woods. The thing moved fast, already growing smaller as it flew northeast.

"Yep," he said. "Ever seen one?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I hope you never see another. By the way, my name is Saul. Saul Kelde."

He extended his hand and I took it. His grip was firm and vigorous. "Good to meet you," I said.

"And you are?"

A million thoughts rushed through my head. I woke up in a strange place to be greeted by a complete stranger running from a dragon. Occam is turning over in his grave, I thought. It was then that I decided on my new name.

"John," I said. "John Carter."

"Nice to meet you, John." Saul looked to where the dragon had flown. It was already long gone. "Lucky to even meet you, frankly." He scratched his head. "For the life of me, I can't figure out how it didn't smell us. I guess it must have been too busy." He looked at me as if I had the answers. "But busy doing what?"

Only then did I really take a good look at Saul. He wore a leather shirt dotted with studs. It creaked as he moved. His pants and the shirt underneath his leather shirt--studded leather armor, I realized--were both a drab brown. His boots were worn, but made of good, sturdy leather. It was what I saw under his dark brown hat that threw me. I stared at his ears. They tapered into distinct points.

He noticed me staring at them. "Guess you've never seen an elf either."

I shook my head slowly.

"Well, I've never seen anyone dressed quite like you either."

I looked down. I had my gortex boots and poncho, camouflage pants, and I long sleeve shirt--all made out of materials that were probably like nothing he had ever seen.

"I guess so," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare at you."

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. I'd say you're out of your element anyway. Where are you from."

"Denver," I said, and then added, "it's a long way off."

He raised an eyebrow. "I guess so. You're going to Hommlet, I take it?"

Hommlet! I hadn't played that game in years. D&D, I mean. In fact, that was the last thing I played. The Temple of Elemental Evil. I remember as kids how everyone talked about how cool it would be to actually live in the world of Greyhawk. I dissented. Adventurers? No TV? No radio? Hiking through the wilderness in search of adventure might sound like fun, but I bet you'd spend most of your time cold and hungry, not to mention terrified ninety percent of the time. Fighting orcs and trolls, all wanting to kill you and probably eat you. And what if you ended up traveling the planes? Do you think it'd be cool to wander the Abyss or the Nine Hells? Do you think it would be "cool" to fight demons and devils? No, excuse me...I mean Tanari and Baatezu.

I looked up. Not to mention dragons.

"You okay?" Saul said. "You look a bit pale."

I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

He caught me as I fainted.

John Carter reporting from Hommlet

How I got here, I can't be certain. That I am here is a miracle.

Who am I? Once I realized I had left home, that I had left everything behind, I decided to give up everything in my life that reminded me of home. That included my real name. Once I decided that, I knew exactly what my new name would be.

When people ask me who I am, I tell them, "John Carter." Edgar Rice Burrough fans will know what that means.

I am John Carter. Just as Rice's character found himself on Barsoom, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them I was here, just outside of Hommlet. Then things got interesting.

But, how did I get here?

I first came here a couple of months ago. I lived in Morrison, Colorado. Morrison is a suburb of the Denver Metro area. It was far enough from the city that I could go into the wilderness if I wished, and close enough to the city that I wasn't completely cut off from civilization. I was a software developer, writing systems for sales people to keep track of customers. The software itself was boring, but programming is meticulous work and I have a meticulous mind.

I had a house near open fields and hiking trails. When I first moved there a few years before, I would hike along those trails. Soon, I began camping out. At first it was only once every couple of months, and then it became once a month. Finally, it became every weekend. Friday after work I would grab my camping gear and head out into the wilds. I would hike into the night until I found a spot where I had not camped before, and I'd stay there until Sunday night. Sometimes I'd simply get up early Monday morning with just enough time to hike home, take a shower, and drive to work.

Driving. I really do missing driving a car.

For a while, it helped me get through the office grind during the week that followed. It was my little vacation away from the world. I was always eager for the coming weekend, so much so that it started to affect my work. Projects were delayed because of me, the test department found downright ridiculous bugs in my code (such as a page not loading…very sloppy), and as a result the project was delayed. The client was late getting it, and they were not happy.

The department head pulled me aside and asked what the problem was.

"There's no problem," I said. "I guess that one just got away from me."

That answer didn't fly, not one bit. Next thing I know I'm on mandatory vacation for the next two weeks. I was beside myself with glee, in spite of the fact I was in deep trouble. It was entirely possible I could lose my job, but I didn't care. Not one little bit.

Why? I had lost interest in life. The world around me didn't appeal to me any longer. It angered me that I felt this way. I felt like some high school kid shaking is fists furiously at the world, as I once did. I couldn't admit it when I was in high school, but I could as an adult. The world was not the problem. It was me.

I parked my car in the garage and went directly inside. I grabbed my camping gear and headed straight for the wilderness. Part of me had no intention of returning.

I had no idea that really would be the case.