T'willic Waybinder was sitting at a small table in the Magic Kettle. The cool water that they served for free washed its way down his throat. The other swill they served here did not slake his other needs. The minds inside of the low-grade eatery were base. Not enlightened. T'willic didn't come here for the conversation, or mental stimulation. He came to gain sustenance for his body. A psion 1 requires little for the body; the mind is another story. For the sustenance of the mind, he prefers the learned of Highmoon.

The Magi, the Cleric, the Sage.

T'willic came to the Magic Kettle because the water tasted much as it did on Athas, his home under the Dark Sun 2 . Dirty, metallic, lackluster. So many differences, yet so many similarities. The magic did not inherently destroy, but had the potential to do so. The people were as horrible, but weaker.

As many differences between the worlds he lived, there were just as many differences between the old psion he was, and the psion he is. Before his body was hairless and strong, as a proper dwarf should be 3 . Now he is covered with the disgusting hair as the dwarves native to this world. His eyes, once reflecting the tan of the world around him, are now as silver as the coveted metal, as is the hair he could not rid himself of. Even now a human was thinking of how to sink him of the precious repulsive material.

Rather then sully his mind by changing the human's, he just leaned over and grabbed the iron wrought candelabra from beside his table and bent it in half. The human's jaw dropped. T'willic smiled at him, flashing his bright white teeth. He then pointed at the human and nodded.

The human ran out of the room without paying his tab. T'willic put the candelabra back into position, rebending it. The waitress sighed and continued to serve the other patrons, knowing that the Waybinder would pay for his privacy. The pair that just walked in, on the other hand...

The pre-eminent exotic weapons sage of Highmoon strolled into the Magic Kettle, having found a couple silver lying in the gutter. Well, maybe gutter would be too nice of a word. Outhouse would be a better word, but it would defile the good name of outhouses everywhere.

Gimble took a seat, eagerly anticipating the rare enjoyment of a hot meal. Rat, on the other hand, was eagerly anticipating looking down the waitress's shirt, or up her skirt, whichever he got the chance. For a non-humanoid that never nursed from a woman in his life, he had an unhealthy pre-occupation with mammary glands.

Gimble strolled (which, if you have ever seen a bugbear stroll, is not a pretty sight) around the room looking for a seat. There was only one left in the place. It was the lunch rush, and there were always enough idiots from out of the city that the Magic Kettle was always packed.

The only seat left, was one across the way from the biggest freaking dwarf the Eight Foot tall hulking mass of intelligence (if you think that a hulking mass of intelligence is an oxymoron, you don't know what an oxymoron is. Hint: just look in the mirror) had ever seen.

"Ale, water, and uhhh, whatever is cheap right now."

The waitress sighed. The lunch rush is always a pain in the ass.

T'willic looked at the creature sitting in front of him. It had a rat riding on its shoulder. In the Mage's Eye, the Waybinder had seen far weirder creatures riding on people's shoulders. He sipped the water at hand, trying to think of what the creature reminded him of. Nothing came to mind. A strange happening for a dwarven psion with perfect recall.

Rat looked down the waitress's shirt while she was setting down the plate of warm gruel. Then Rat looked at the truly freaky dwarf sitting across from the sage. The dwarf had a pure silver beard. Now, Rat is considered an extremely intelligent member of his species, but his true intelligence lay in assessment. With the price of silver being what it currently was, and the weight of silver being what it currently is, but taking into account that the silver was already in a highly desirable state (wire), the dwarf's facial hair was worth at the very least 100 Crown. Which was more then enough to pay off the damages that the pair owed to the Library of Highmoon 4 . Or at least, that is what Rat thinks. In truth, the physical damage was not that great, but the loss of reputation, and research materials, and time was of much greater concern. Of course, like I said, Rat's mind was wired for money, not anything else, (with the exception of mammary glands). The rest was Gimble's department.

"Your animal is staring at me."

Gimble looked up from the gruel, and damn if the dwarf wasn't telling the God's own truth. Gimble picked up his sidekick (or boss, depending on whom you asked), and set him on the floor, where Rat ran off to try to look up the waitress's skirt.

"Sorry, he's rude like that."

"Sorry, he's rude like that."

The Waybinder hid his surprise. The voice, while deep and gravelly, had a large hint of intelligence, culture, and learning.

"Where I come from, an animal that stares like that would end up on the dinner table."

'You were raised in a bugbear warren?"

"No."

"Oh. I ate a lot of rats before I meet Rat. The name is Gimble, by the way. Licensed Sage."

"Sage?" The image of the Sorcerer King's people of learning came to mind.

"Yeah, fully licensed, and acrd-…acred-…recognized."

Rat ran under the waitress's skirt, careful not to ruffle the fabric. Stealing a look up, he smiled as she stepped away. He felt a hand pick him up.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little rat. How I wondered where you were at..."

Rat's beady little eyes looked into a set of pale blue, almond-shaped eyes.

"Oh, $#!t! BOSSSSS!"

The Waybinder looked over; the sage's familiar was being held by an elf. On every world, some things are universal. Elves being bastards is one of them. The sage stood and took a long oddly curved blade from his waist, and stepped forward only to have another pair of swords cross his neck.

The elf holding the rodent turned toward the bugbear. Two others had joined it from the shadows.

"The Armory, bugbear. Where is it? Whitemoon knew, and was taken by Sycron 4 . Talk, or the rat eats it."

T'willic stood.

"Barbaric elf, you have disturbed not only the sage's meal, but my own as well. For that you shall perish."

"It ain't your fight, friend," said Gimble. "Sit down, and let me handle this."

Gimble inhaled, and gave the traditional battle cry of bugbears. Translated, it means, "Prepare to die, inferior type of creature, for I am bigger then you, and that actually means something, regardless of what the females say!" but it always comes out sounding something like this:

"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

The elf's jaw dropped, and he dropped Rat. Gimble smiled; for once, the traditional war cry worked. There's a first for everything. Granted, he was not a beholder, or any other type of amazing creature that had the ability to see behind him. Otherwise he and the two elves holding their blades to his throat probably would have had the same reaction as the elf in front of them. That is one of the reasons that it is sometimes really good not to have eyes in the back of your head, since T'willic had just proceeded to change forms from the brick $#!thouse of a dwarf, to the seemingly delicate, yet incredibly deadly form of a Crystal Spider.

While the sage was taking a cleansing breath, to unleash a battle cry, the Waybinder also took a cleansing breath. He centered himself while he called on his mental prowess. He shifted his body, growing arms, moving muscle. The form was one of the most deadly he knew. The Crystal Spider 5 . A creature of beauty, of violence, of power. His front legs quickly shot out, slicing the two elves with the tinkle of glasses in a toast. They dropped, and the leader elf holding the rat dropped him, turned, and ran.

Gimble smiled. It was a smile of righteous victory, and finding out that maybe his father wasn't wrong about the war cry after all.

"Rat, ol' buddy, you okay?"

"B..B...Boss..."

"What, Rat?"

And Rat just pointed over the Bugbear's shoulder. Gimble turned around, and saw the beautiful creature, covered with the lifeblood of the elves. He stopped in his tracks. The bugbear shrugged.

"It’s a giant spider, that just killed my friend’s captors."

"Uh-huh."

"We're in trouble, aren't we, Rat?"

"Yup."

And then the Crystal Spider, well, to describe it, it kinda, well, melted. Not in the Wicked Witch of the West way, or in the ice cream way. But it melted into the form of the silver-haired dwarf.

"Or not."

The Waybinder regained his natural form.

"I hate having my meals disturbed."

"Well, it won't be the first time," said Gimble. "You just bought yourself a load of trouble."

"Really? They are just elves."

"Ain't nothing funner then to whack some elves, I mean, it’s in my blood, but hell, this ain't good."

"Explain"

"These guys are part of the Elven Resistance Movement. Some of the guys that are trying to start a war inside of Highmoon."

"Another group of malcontents. It seems there are always those who rebel against the status-quo."

"Let’s scram. Before the guard arrives."

The sage scooped up Rat, who despite being an extremely sarcastic rat, was still kinda taken aback by the guy turning into a giant glass spider. There are just some things that are weird no matter what was going on. He rode on Gimble's shoulder back to the Sage’s Shop. The psion followed the pair.

"What was that all about, sage?"

"You mean the elfies? That’s a long story, about 6 pages, actually."

"Try me."

Gimble looked into the strange eyes of the dwarf. He has apparently seen many things. Weird things, really, really weird and freaky things.

T’willic listened to the Sage’s story as they walked to the bugbear’s shop.

"Your door is wide open," the dwarf observed.

"Rat, didn’t you lock the door on the way out?"

"Do you think that I was raised in a barn? I was raised in a garbage wagon! Of course I closed the door!"

T’willic closed his eyes and sent his mind outward to sense the interior of the one-room shop. The mind that he met was overly happy. Too happy. Insanely happy.

"Be careful, Gimble, something in there is happier then anyone has a right to be."

"So whoever is in there just mated?"

"I doubt that anyone would mate with something that happy, it is not natural."

"Tell me about it! Last time I mated, I had this big $#!t eating grin on my face for a week."

"Rat, shut your auditory edifice."

T’willic looked at the large goblinoid. It continually surprised him. At times it had the simplicity of a child not yet out of its second decade, and others, it had the intelligence of, well, a sage.

Kraz (Hi, everybody! It’s now my turn to get into the story, and it is just about to get really good! Oh, right, I’ll let you get back to the story now. Sorry.) had been reading the "Wanted" posters outside of the Mage’s Eye. There was one that fit him to a T! "Sage looking for Acquis Exper…person good at getting into places." So he followed the directions. Lo and behold! The door was locked! Kraz Shadowhider realized that that was probably why they needed someone that was good getting into places, and opened the door for the person!

Gimble leaned into his shanty, I mean shop. He then understood why the dwarf said there was something in his shop that was happier then anything had a right to be. It was a kender.

"Oh Gods! Kender, what are you doing in my shop?"

"YOU’RE THE SAGE?!? Wow that’s really cool! I’ve never met a bugbear sage-- walking couches, flaming zombies, and the sewer thing 6 , but wow! Never did I ever dream I’d meet a bugbear sage!

T’willic leaned his head in. "What is that thing? Should we kill it?"

"Nah, it’s just a kender, annoying, but harmless," said Rat.

"HARMLESS? You stupid rat! I’ll show you harmless!" shouted the kender.

A hoopak came out of the duffel bag at the side of the kender, and lifted Rat off of Gimble’s shoulder and sent him careening out the door and across the street. T’willic looked at the kender, and then looked at Gimble.

"As if this world couldn’t get any weirder."

Gimble pulled out the few chairs that were in his shop, and gathered them around the crate that served as the shop’s table. He then motioned for the others to sit.

"Both of you sit. I have to think."

T’willic looked at the bugbear’s aura, and could see the wheels churning. He realized that Gimble’s intelligence just shot straight up. It was odd. Almost like a wild-talent. A temporary influx of intelligence.

Kraz on the other hand, was completely enamored with the large elven moonblade that was sitting on the Bugbear’s left.

Rat was just trying to get across the street without getting stepped on, which is quite a feat when you are less then a foot long.

"Let me talk to you both as peers. I’m Gimble, and walking in is Rat. Who are you?"

"My name is T’willic Waybinder. I am a psion."

The smoke pours out of Gimble’s ears.

"You read minds? 7 "

"As well as other things."

"How about you, kender?"

"Kraz Shadowhider. Adventurer without parallel."

"Can you open locks?"

"Can’t you?"

"Hmmm."

Gimble sat and considered.

"Here is the deal. I am a sage of exotic weapons. My ability to use the Library was revoked. I can get back in, but I need to retrieve a desk. 8 "

T’willic stroked his beard, a habit he was unaware he had. "What does this have to do with us?"

"I need help. I found the desk, but it belongs to a really important guy."

"So we are going to borrow it, right?"

"Sure, Kraz, you just go ahead and think that."

"I’m your kender!"

"I am in on this as well," said the dwarf.

"Thank you, T’willic, Kraz."

"Hey, Boss, you forgot about me."

"I just assumed you would go with me, Rat."

"When you assume, you make an…"

"Rat! In or out?"

"In."

"It’s settled."

And so the prelude to the most Chaotic Cacophony of Characters ever to be gathered together ends. Now the real fun starts! From here on out, there aren’t going to be that many snide comments (except by Rat), or jokes (Except by Kraz, who can’t help it). This is the true story of how three people who should never have met underwent an adventure, and came out alive.



Footnotes
1. Psion is the new 3E term for psionicist, or a character with psychic powers. While it has not been officially adopted in my campaigns, T’willic is not from Galon and therefore he uses a different piece of terminology.
2. T’willic is originally from Athas, home of the now-defunct Dark Sun campaign setting published by TSR. He arrived on Galon following a magical accident, and has not found a way home.
3. Athasian dwarves, unlike those on most worlds, are totally hairless and beardless, and are also immensely strong. They are frequently capable psion(icist)s as well. T’willic gained his unusual silver hair and bear, which is actually composed of metallic silver, in an incident involving Selenite clerics in Bluetree and a glass of liquid moonlight shortly after his arrival.
4. See Gimble and Rat: Search for the Lost Armory" for details.
5. A highly dangerous monster native to Athas, the crystal spider is more or less what it sounds like. Gigantic, psionic, and equipped with razro-sharp legs, it’s one of Athas’ deadliest species.
6. Despite the normal kender penchant for exaggeration, Kraz really did encounter all of these things, and more, in his lengthy trek through the sewers of Highmoon. If you want more information, ask LAZ or I. If you don’t know about kender, go read Dragons of Autumn Twilight by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. You’ll be doing yourself a rewarding favor.
7. This is unusual knowledge for Galon, where psionics, an entirely separate power form magic, are virtually unknown and usually interpreted as witchcraft when encountered. But Gimble has frequently expressed unusual bits of knowledge in the past, so let’s just go with it.
8. An incredibly succinct summary of the Gimble and Rat saga to date. It’s worth the time to read it for yourself if you haven’t.