"Well, what do you think?" War Scribe mouthed these words with a sly grin on her face.

He wasn't impressed. Lazheros gave her a blank face instead of what War Scibe wanted.

War Scribe returned Lazheros blank stare with an even larger smile than her sly grin.

The elementalist glared at the Chronicler this time as the wind suddenly picked War Scribe high up into the sky and sling-shotted her to the far side of the Southern Valley taking the cone of Silence with her.

Wordlessly War Scribe went flying through the air and disappeared completely from view.

Caliaphy just stared at the spot where War Scribe once stood, "Huh?"

"Hey! I can hear myself speak now." Serna smiled and then turned to where The Chronicler had been standing, "What happened to War Scribe?"

The Bronze Man grumbled, "Your answer will be a short lived one, Alyson, and as much as I would like not to see that pest again, Puck's spell will not let her die as she intends."

"I beg to differ, Lazheros," Irzen brought his mount to a full stop and looked back at the Elementalist and the Grand Cleric, "Remember what Puck said and I quote 'Since you insist on staying in this current abhorrent state, you shall remain as a Mousekteer surrounded by the images of giggling children from the Mickey Mouse club until further notice, well at least until the next full moon and that's ten days from now. Tootle-loo!' To undo what Puck has done, all War Scribe has to do is change back to her original form." The Swordsman pondered for a minute, "Now whether she is going to do that before or after she hits the ground at 90 miles an hour remains to be seen."

The Bronze Man turned towards the swordsman, "The chronicler may have been airlifted beyond our company but she will not be able to change to her original form. I know from personal experience in the days of my youth why you should NOT upset the King of the Sidhe."

"Because he's a jackass?" Irzen asked rhetorically.

"Some day when you wander too close to the Fey Wild and loose yourself there, only then will you know the price of your failures, swordsman." The Bronze Man replied.

Mandur snapped out of his trance as did his men, "Oy! That was...ah..odd at best, Grand Cleric."

*********

As War Scribe was blasted away from the others to the far western side of the valley, the images of giggling children appeared. They locked hands and became a makeshift parachute preventing the drowling from impacting into the Ridge Line.

"AWWWW!" War Scribe whined in disappointment, "I was hoping to get smashed into itsy, bitsy little pieces when I hit those rocks. Oh well, I guess I'll have to find a new and more interesting way to die today?"

Once safely to the ground, Puck appeared hovering in front with a grin on his face, "It would appear that you've over done it with your singing, so a trip to Earth is what is required for someone of your talent. Mind you, there are no elves, dwarves, or other various magical creatures there just stories and actors portraying a make-believe fantasy world for all to see."

"Hey! You can't do that!" War Scribe stomped her foot in protest, "Validor is going to be pissed if I'm not on the job!"

He snapped his fingers and a portal opened up to Earth as the ancient magic seized the chronicler from the Realm and set her on the other side, "Oh and if you decide to end your life there bear this in mind, your return trip to the Realm will be LONG and arduous. As in you will have to earn your place back here as a chronicler of Validor."

No sooner had the Chronicler landed on Earth, the Drowling was yanked back into The Realm. Suddenly, War Scribe's clothing changed from tattered, torn and blood-soaked to pristine, white and clean. A bright white light encompassed the Drowling as the tome and quill pen she carried gave off a powerful warm golden glow.

War Scribe raised her head so Puck could see that her eyes glowed as bright and white as the noon day sun and spoke in an ancient, deep, powerful voice not her own, "I AM VALIDOR! GOD OF HISTORY FOR THE REALM OF DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS! PUCK, ROBIN GOODFELLOW, HOBGOBLIN, WHO ARE YOU TO BANISH ONE OF MY SERVANTS? ROBIN GOODFELLOW, WHO ARE YOU TO HAVE POWER OVER ONE OF MY ACOLYTES? HOBGOBLIN, BY WHAT AUTHORITY DO YOU CLAIM DOMINION OVER ONE OF MY MINIONS?"

Puck waved his hand nonchalantly, "My king does not bow to your wishes, Validor, nor do you have any power over him, or his people including myself. The Sidhe are best left alone however, since your hapless non-real servant insisted on being a PEST, a measure of discipline was enacted and a sentence was carried out."

"Also, I do NOT CLAIM dominion over your servants as you say. It's simply not my call, not that I would even bother with such a loathsome and detestable creature as this want-to-be drowling. It, er she is a mirror reflection of a true chronicler, a REAL LIFE ONE at that. Lets be honest here, no one wants the company of someone claiming to be one of your chroniclers disguised as a rotting corpse especially after a recent battle! Now why don't you go someplace else away from those you call your 'friends' and record where dark deeds and battles take place because you will find none here!"