Foreword.....

There are realms and there are realms. Some
are very far in time and distance, and yet some
are the here and now. I'm terribly exhausted
and so it is a pleasure for me to just sit and
write of The Hunters Elite's existence within
this realm and in our time....

There have been many tales told in the
past that would explain so much, yet they are
gone forever. Who are the Hunters and where did
they come from would take volumes and vaults to
record and tell. Yet it must be told before I
journey to God's golden shore.

Fyrewyzrd

Chapter One: The Wizard's Mission

My first waking moments began in the total
pitch dark high within the mountain caverns
outside Qeynos of Tunaria. The enormous mountain
could hold a great army, but it only held me
instead. My first thoughts were already
implanted long before I arrived. I was summoned,
I was conjured, I was the answer to a great
riddle.

When I opened my eyes for the very first
time all I could see was the deepest black. I
could sense and feel my way as I realized I was
laying on a huge obsidian slab of stone. Its
glassy surface was smooth but cold to the touch.
As I rose to sit up my head grazed the ceiling.
I was in a shallow crawl area and I proceeded
forward on my hands and knees.

In the far distance I heard someone
breathing and a very loud clicking noise erupted
near by. Something glowed blue above me and I
seen my name then appear and it hovered above
me. My creation was complete as I suddenly felt
the edge of the great stone. I swung around and
sit on this edge, as I did so, I stretched out
one foot down into the abyss. My toe touched a
pathway below me and I slipped off into a sort
of winding hallway.

Here I must stop for a moment and explain
something important. We all have gifts within
ourselves. One of my gifts is that I have a
connection with you as you read this. Its like I
can feel your presence as you read these very
words. Stop for a moment and look around the
room behind you. You see nothing of course, but
you might feel this 'warm' presence near at
hand. That is me looking over your shoulder, I
hope you don't mind.

I also have the gift of being prognostic,
but its limited at best. It only projects
forward a few seconds in time. To explain I
should say that I am not a 'seer' or
'forecaster', or even a prophet. What I can do
is feel the roughness of a stone seconds before
my hand touches it. I can hear an arrow coming
but not enough time to dodge it. The trill of a
nightbird reaches my ears before he has even
opened his beak. Yet I can't change the outcome
in anyway.

As I find myself traveling down this
twisting and turning path under the mountain,
the information is entering my mind at an
alarming rate. Within seconds I completely
understand not only why I was brought there, but
how I was to accomplish the more tedious of
chores upto and including the extreme ultimate
mission of my life. I was summoned for a
purpose. In fact, you were summoned also. Even
as you read this, you know in your heart that
you were summoned as well....don't you?

Come closer and look in deeper within these
realms if you like, but the one at hand is our
true test of our mission. My knowledge base is
expanding as I wind my way down closer to the
very heart of the mountain. Suddenly a single
beam of light appears before me as I turn a
corner of the path. It strikes the wall nearby
and lights the area and I can plainly see
shelves before me.

I step up to them and recognize each piece
of clothing neatly folded along with boots,
weapons, and packs. I instinctively put on each
piece and doing so my strength seems to increase
as well as more knowledge. Glowing by itself I
see the enormous flaming stone in its silver
headband. Putting it on I'm now lethal and
armed. A small blue flitter of lightning travels
up my sleeves and down again. I can 'feel' the
surge of power moving, checking, and
distributing itself within me.

I look down and on the last shelf lies the
wizard's staff and the ancient artifact that
mesmerizes enemies instantly. They fit perfectly
in my hand as the aged smooth spots matched my
finger tips. Have I carried these weapons before
in battle?

I now turned and faced the light and yet I
knew it was traveling from miles and miles away.
It was as though a beacon was pulsing through
this light as it beckoned me onwards. I began to
blindly follow it. The journey took hours and
hours, but every minute my mind used to consume
the ever flowing knowledge of my mission. Soon a
great rumbling occurred high above my head. I
knew I had left the mountain and traveled
forward though a great tunnel. Its sides were
rough hewn, but its path went like an arrow's
future.

The light was changing colors and soon it
was radiating white until I had to close my eyes
as I continued towards it. I could hear a
roaring further ahead as though the air was
alive. It wasn't long when I entered into a
great cavern. The light was coming from small
fires that were burning out of control all
around. The air was swirling around and I could
feel the pressure pushing me around as well.
Every step forward brought me closer to a huge
orange inferno that spun, twisted, and rose high
above.

It was like a twister out of hell itself. It
would split apart, then rejoin again, all while
I continued to walk towards it. I suddenly
braced myself and gripped my staff a bit harder
as the whirlwind of fire lifted me off the
ground. I spun into circles as lights danced in
and out of my sight and mind. I was totally
consumed by the fire, as it lifted me higher and
higher into a small black hole, high up above
into the cavern ceiling. It was as if a great
vacuum existed there. It pulled me even faster
and harder until I was sucked through the fiery
hole.

Suddenly, everything went pitch black as I
heard screams erupt from all around me. Then in
one last burst of flames and wind I was thrown
out and landed into a small campfire. I stood up
and was facing five very frightened and angry
thieves. They ran towards me with weapons drawn
and aimed. Just as they reached the campfire, my
ears began to hurt from an excruciating pain. A
loud 'POP' could be heard and everything went
immediately black again. Something was seriously
wrong, but what?

It seemed as if my eyes had only been
closed for a second, but I could see the bandits
actually pass through my invisible body, as they
accidentally impaled each other. I shall never
forget the look of astonishment upon their rough
faces, as they stared at the sword blades that
had run deep into their breast and bellies by
their own mates.

I moved slowly away and as I did so the
invisible spell wore off. Soon I found myself
standing before the very gates of the great city
of Qeynos. Yet I was annoyed. It was early
morning and a rooster nearby kept pacing back
and forth on a horse stable's fence. He looked
annoyed as well...? I didn't budge though and
neither did the rooster. Its as though the
timing was off. I pondered this mystery, as I
stood there with one eye on the rooster and the
other on the gates ahead.

Chapter Two: The Warrior's Journey

While the crow paced...high on an icy hill
outside the huge northern snow covered city of
Halas, a family was saying their farewells. The
great barbarian, Bangdun Fyresbane stood outside
his home of stone and held out the Fyresbane
shield to his son.

When Krankin reached out to take it, his father
pulled it away at the last moment and said,
"Son, this is the family heirloom and has been
past down through the generations from father to
son. I don't give it up willingly, for you are
still yet young and wily. Your mother received
word though, that you are to be employed as the
protector to a great wizard in Qeynos. With the
gnolls and orcs running rampant between here and
there I know you will need it." He then handed
over the great wooden buckler with the golden
engraved ox on its face.

Now the whole family came out and shoved
Krankin around some. Knocking him down, slapping
him across the face, his brother kicking him in
the ribs, while his mother pulled his great
golden locks of hair. His sister punched him in
the face, and as he struggled to get up his
father put a boot down on his throat choking
him. They then let him up and gave him a great
circle of hugs, all the while they cried and
sobbed. Tradition can not be broken within the
Fyresbane clan....never.

Krankin now turned and began the path to
his career as a warrior and body guard. He
started out heading east, as he neared the river
then he turned and went south. Following the
river would one day take him to the famous
East-West road, and he would turn west towards
Qeynos. He was not excited, even after the
traditional family 'roughing' that had seen him
off. In fact Krankin had emotions of ice,
muscles of steel, but his mind was unknown, even
to his family and closest of friends.

On the third day of his journey was when
all the trouble started. He was climbing over a
boulder that had fell into the mountainous path,
as he went ever downward. On a normal day he
would simply have rolled it out of the way, but
he was running a bit late, so he just climbed
over it instead. As he did so he heard a raspy
voice call out, "Hail Knothead..!! Halt and get
off my stone..!!"

Gnolls!! Krankin hated them. He hated them
even more than the orcs, because the gnolls were
not so much as strong, but were tricky, quick,
and shrewd. He looked down and now realized he
was completely surrounded by twenty of them
armed to the neck. He surprised them when he
stood up and yelled, "Which way is your home?"
The gnolls stopped suddenly and instead of
attacking they immediately got this puzzled look
on their face, as they looked for the answer in
each other's eyes.

Yes, its an old trick, but it worked. As you
already knew, gnolls can't remember where their
homes are. Which explains why they are always
roaming and sitting up tents and so on. By the
time they realized that they had been duped by
the barbarian, Krankin was gone and running as
fast as he could. It made no difference though,
because the gnolls can run like dogs on all
fours. They soon caught to him up near a wall of
boulders that blocked his path.

Again, he began to climb and just as he
got to the top and turned around to see how
close they were, then it happened. "THUMP"....a
large polearm had been thrown by the great gnoll
leader and it hit Krankin squarely in the chest.
It had even pierced his breast plate armor and
knocking an enormous hole into his lungs. He
staggered and fell. As he rolled off the far
side of the boulder wall, he landed at the small
black opening of a cave. He crawled his way into
it and prepared himself to die. Soon he passed
out from the loss of blood.

The gnolls went wild and began to scour the
rock walls in search of their wounded prey. When
they had traveled to the far end and came back
on the far side they could not remember exactly
where he had fell. It was maddening, as they
rushed around one boulder after the next, always
thinking he might be right there, ready to
attack. Soon they gave him up for dead, since
they never found the cave. They went back and
set up camp near the mountain path where it met
the great East-West Road.

Chapter Three: The Thief's Turn

On the East-West Road walked a small lone
figure. He was dressed in black, yet he was not
in mourning. Gwyllion Lightpick by trade was an
eleven thief. A very good theif in fact. He had
plenty of wealth though, as his family owned a
famous roadhaus in the Moradhim Mountains. Only
adventure and thrill seeking appealed to the
young elf. He was very daring, but only because
he was highly intelligent and could figure out
any problem in a flash. His good looks attracted
the ladies, but that was just a ruse to lift
their money purse.

Even now, as he headed down the ancient
road he was trailing two fat wealthy human
business owners. At times, he could even hear
the coins chinking in their purses. He kept his
distance though and waited for the right
opportunity. He was good like that too, he
prided himself on his patience and could
persevere through any tight squeeze. Soon, the
sun began to set upon the troubled world of
Norrath, and the whole expanse of Tunaria was
covered in darkness. A twinkle appeared in
Gwyllion's eyes.

The two old men now turned north at the
river bridge, and made for the comfort of the
Darvar Manor. Just as Gwyllion crossed over the
bridge he noticed that the two men had stopped
and were running northward..!! He started
running after them and then stopped suddenly in
his own tracks. A large band of gnolls had
emerged suddenly out of the nearby woods and was
chasing the old merchants. They caught them
easily as Gwyllion sneaked up, as close as he
dared, to see what they were doing.

The gnolls had tied the hands of the
merchants and began to march them further north
using whips and verbal abuse. The two old men
fell and stumbled several times. All Gwyllion
could think of was, 'These gnolls are stealing
my...uh their....well...my gold..!!' So he
trailed after them. In the darkness the gnolls
were satisfied to finally make it back to their
camp. Your right....the same gnolls that had
attacked Krankin. Gwyllion climbed a tree and
waited.

In the early morning hours, a lone gnoll
guard finally fell asleep outside the perimeter
of the camp. Gwyllion slipped down quietly out
of the tree, and slowly made his way into the
camp. He was very excited now, yet he remained
calm. Soon he could make out in the darkness the
two merchants tied to a tree. They both were
dead. Gwyllion took one last look over his
shoulder and then proceeded to reach in the deep
pockets of their cloaks. He could only find one
money bag though, and it was very small and sewn
into the lining of the cloak.

As he was tearing it out, suddenly the bag
ripped open and the gold coins fell out making a
loud chinking noise as they hit the ground. A
large gnoll nearby roared,
"GRRrrraaahhhLLL....Who Goes There..??" Then the
whole camp erupted, as every gnoll grabbed their
weapon and jumped to their feet.

The gnoll captain then screamed out,
"There by the meat..!!" Every gnoll came running
up to the dead merchants and swept on past, as
they now saw a new prey running up near the
boulder wall. They actually could smell him
better than they could see, even though they had
excellent night vision. That is until Gwyllion
jumped into the river nearby. He then swam up it
for a ways and climbed back out to throw them
off. The water was freezing cold and so he
hugged the great boulders to keep some fleeting
warmth.

Just as he started around another stone,
coming from the opposite side was the gnolls. He
took a step back and tripped on what seemed like
a wooden shield. It sent him flying backwards
and off balance. What happen next was sure luck
as he fell in against the cave opening hitting
his head as he went. He landed just inside the
opening and was knocked unconscious. It was just
enough, that the gnolls thought him to be a
magician. Where did he go? He vanished..!!

Hours later Gwyllion became conscious with
a roaring headache. The dawn erupted with an
orange light, as it filtered through the forest.
When the very first beams of light hit the cave,
Gwyllion was quick to jump. He was frightened by
the sight of an enormous dark figure deeper
within the cave. He squinted and stepped closer
looking. It was a barbarian..!! Gwyllion
wondered...'how rich are barbs'?

As he drew closer, he could see a large
puddle of dark blood at his feet and an even
larger amount covered the huge warrior. When
Gwyllion stepped even closer to check the
corpse's pockets, a great gasp of air blew out
and Krankin said, "I'm dead, help me?"

Gwyllion was about to turn and run out of
the cave, except he heard the gnolls nearby
chomping on bones no less, and making a
wonderful racket, as breakfast was in full
swing. He stopped and turn to face the striken
warrior. Gritting his teeth, he went reluctantly
back to Krankin's side. The polearm was still
embedded into Krankin's chest, so Gwyllion
grabbed a pack off the warrior and rummaged
through it. He found a soft piece of perfumed
cloth and stuck it in Krankin's mouth.

Then he stood up and pulled Krankin to a
sitting position with his back against the cave
wall. He then took a hold of the polearm with
both hands as he put his boot against Krankin's
chest. He threw himself backwards as hard as he
could, yanking the polearm out and leaving an
enormous hole.

Krankin did not need the gag as he simply
passed out. Gwyllion threw the pole aside and
rummaged quickly through all their packs. He had
to hurry, because now the blood was coming out
even faster. The only thing he could find was
Krankin's toy duck, that he had kept with him
since he was a baby. It squeaked, but Gwyllion
didn't hesitate to stuff it into the hole and it
fit perfectly. He then sewed and bandaged
Krankin very neatly.

As the hours and days went by, the gnolls
eventually moved on as was their nature.