Damn.

I spend all night and all morning wandering through the Greenwood. I see a band of outlaws passed out in the trees with empty bottles of mead and a fondue pot. I see an unshaven park ranger who looks like he's been running for days following a track. I see a Questing Beast drinking from a stream . . . it raises a hoof to its mouth and slips into the brush just in time for me to tell some guy named Pellinore that I haven't seen any Questing Beasts, no sir. He throws me a cloak and tells me to cover my shame. An oddly metaphysical request, I think, so I just nod and pull it over my head instead.

I have the feeling that I'm being followed, but every time I turn to look there's no one there.

The sun has passed straight overhead when I think to ask someone for directions. The birch I ask first is too busy chatting with a pair of chickadees to be helpful. The maples are sleeping. I finally rouse a crotchety oak, who tells me that the best way to get out of the Greenwood is to head for its center. Before I can ask him which way that is, he's snoring loudly.

It's surprisingly easy, actually. The center is, well, it's in, whereas I've been walking out. So I start walking in, and suddenly I'm at the edge of some tracks which run southwest to northeast. And somebody's standing next to me. It's the bitch.

She looks younger, and not quite solid. I can see through her, like stained glass. She looks up at me, blinks, then looks back at the tracks. She sits, and turns to lick her crotch.

"A ghost dog," I say. She ignores me. "You look nothing like Forest Whitaker." At that she leaves off the exploration of her genitals and gives me a pained look.

"Nice to have a companion," I say. "I've been gone a while. Can I pet you?"

She doesn't answer, but I reach down and find warm fur where nothing solid appears to be. I scratch her ears and her nose and under her chin. Her eyes half-close in pleasure.

"Good dog," I say. "What's your name?"

She looks at me as if to say, Look, buddy, I'm not the ghost of Mr. Ed. You handle the talking, all right? If you're up to it, that is.

"Oo-kay. How about . . . Eleazar? El for short. Or Zar."

She wags her ghost tail at Zar. I feel wise and benevolent.

"Well, Zar, let's see if home is still there." I cross the tracks, and she follows me towards Dogtown.

Never did run into Aimee, although I finally found DX Machina's place, which is actually called Milo's. Bunch of little green buggers spiking the drinks and throwing their voices, but a fun time was had by all, especially when someone cast a goblin levitation spell. I have a vague memory of catching a horse driving sleigh home - about 40 feet above street level.

I think I'll wander around town today - check out some of the neighborhoods. Mrs. Thorne has been great, but I thnk I should find a more permanent place to live. Dalrymple sounds interesting. Maybe I could even afford to buy a cottage if the Instagolem (TM) take off.

Never got back to the bar after the First Night festivities. Saw some good stuff, including a buncha ice sculptures, and a Miss Gulch impersonator. Lots of fun. When I stopped by this morning, Phred reported that it had been a fairly good night, nothing too rowdy. Well, except for one thing...

"The only thing out of the ordinary was this little pack of gremlins showed up looking to start some trouble. Nothing too bad at first, teasing the bird, swiping drinks. The penguin tried to shoo them out, but they wouldn't go. I was too busy at that point to do anything about it. Well, then one of the little buggers decided to give Captain Charpe a hotfoot. Gremlins ain't the brightest little things, ya know?

"Anyhow, after Charpe, Chopper and the rest of the orcs finished with them, the little varmints were cowering in the corner over by the jukebox, so I took pity on them and sent them over to the Goblin Market."

"Why the Goblin Market?" I asked, mightily confused. "Jilli has no use for gremlins."

"I didn't send them to Jilli. I gave them a copy of that flyer Clovis keeps posting on the bulletin board looking for minions. I figure once he gets through with them, they'll be wishing the orcs had thrown them out into the sunlight instead."

"Are you nuts? Jilli will kill us both if she finds out. What were you thinking?"

"Boss, I just wanted them out of the bar. Gremlins is nothing but trouble. Besides, we may have bigger problems. The Captain questioned one of the little buggers to find out where they came from. Guess who sent them here."

"No idea. Not Gudanov's style. Someone with an absolutely infantile sense of humor?"

"They said it was Aeshma..."

Cue double take. "That's impossible. We killed him. We watched those two orcs eat him, and then stiff us with the bill."

"He's a wizard, There's dead, and then there's dead. Captain Charpe is worried. He's got the cadre on alert."

"Damn." Okay, now what? Last time he was in town, Aeshma tried to wipe out the entire city. Maybe it's time to break out those travel brochures.

Oh, the air is trembling now. The balance is about to shift.

And she's back, watching and smiling a wolven smile.

"Fine," I mutter. "Where?"

She never answers.

I step aside into shadow and she disappears. The pull is clearer here, and I wander through the alternate streets until I'm faced with a half-destroyed building.

It's wrapped around with guarding spells. These I can break, walking in shadow and carrying this sword, but not without disturbing whoever laid them.

Which is what I want. The balance does need to be tipped, and it's never easiest to do it alone.

"Wakey, wakey."

I awake from my peaceful slumber as I feel someone slipping past my wards. Whoever this new intruder is, they move in the shadow. Work, work, work.

A ring of fire erupts from my more mundane wards and an indistinct shape comes bursting through. The shape shucks off a soaking wet blanket to reveal a vampire with fangs bared. I hold up a hand and levitate him back into the ring of flame. This is just pathetic. Obviously I need to have another chat with the head vampire.

However, the shadow intruder is not such a minor concern. I remove a bone box from my handy bag of supplies and remove a single dragon tooth. I rub the tooth gently in my hand as I look into my mirror, peering into the shadow world.

"See my pet." I say to the tooth. "A keeper of the balance and her companion, two parts of the same really. This is a compliment in a way, I've just arrived and already the balance is in play."

I watch a bit longer before speaking to the tooth again. "Kill them if they get close, but do not stray. Your task is to guard my lair. I will find others for the hunt."

I cast the tooth through the mirror. As the shard of bone crosses over into shadow it becomes a dragon whole again. Or rather a mass of bone, scales, and rotting flesh that was once a dragon and now is powered by the fires of the abyss in its heart. The beast stretchs its wings, blasts the ground with cold flames of death and decay, and roars a proclaimation of its existence to the shadow world.

The shadow dragon should keep any threat from that domain in check for a good long while, but I should talk with my demon lord about extending my defences beyond the mundane world.

Anyhow, with that matter taken care of it's time deal with the master vampire sending her minions off to kill me in my sleep. I would think she'd be more grateful after I took the effort to cull her flock of those so-called vampires who would rather go to a dance recital than drink the blood of the living. Oh well, I'm sure a nice long talk will help us come to an understanding. I have a large and rather unpleasent demon go off to retrieve the master while I select an appropriate knife for the conversation.

A large dark shape swoops above my head, in Shadow as I am, and lurches towards me, icy flame licking around what passes for a mouth.

Damn, it smells. Why does evil have to smell? The balance thing would be so much easier if both side smelled good. It might take forever to get the stink out of my clothes.

It flaps its wings, chunks falling from them all around me. Its head turns from side to side, examining me with empty eye sockets one at a time, searching for threat to his domain.

My sword is bared, but pointed at the ground, my free hand resting at my hip. A lump of flesh falls too close to my, and I slap it away with my blade.

The dragon arches its neck at the gesture, but I sheathe my sword (wincing -- it doesn't usually need cleaning, but I'd like to get a few minutes just to make sure its okay).

He'll find no threat here.

I cast the tooth through the mirror. As the shard of bone crosses over into shadow it becomes a dragon whole again. Or rather a mass of bone, scales, and rotting flesh that was once a dragon and now is powered by the fires of the abyss in its heart. The beast stretchs its wings, blasts the ground with cold flames of death and decay, and roars a proclaimation of its existence to the shadow world.

(This is very lovely.)

Home is still there, but a nice Somalian family is leasing it now. They've kept all my things in the attic, and they allow Zar and I inside to sort through it. I pick out some leather pants and a red hooded sweatshirt and leave the rest for now. They offer me dinner, but I refuse politely, then ask if they've got a bit of kibble for my dog. They exchange "This-Is-A-Crazy-Man-and-We've-Let-Him-Into-Our-House" looks, and yawn and stretch and ask if that's really the time. I take the hint and my leave, tell them I'll be back for my things later. They ask me to call first.

Outside I grumble at Zar. "Don't tell me--only I can see you, or some similar consensus-reality-shielding bullshit. This is Blood, you know, not Peoria. I saw my first ghost when I was three."

Zar scratches herself and ignores me.

Next door, at Mudbunny's house, a FOR SALE sign is up. There's no answer at the door. I hope he hasn't moved. Once again I've forgotten to ask what year it is. It was just after New Year's that I went underground. I recall a battle, with gargoyles and a coronation and Steph swinging a Louisville Slugger into a shadow minion's skull. Good times.

I'm a block from home when vertigo hits and I fall on my ass. I sit for a moment, waiting for my head to clear. My balance is off. The balance is off. Something's afoot.

For the first time I wonder why it is that the Earth released me when she did.

Going out didn't happen in the end. When several people refused to tell me the way- by the simple method of walking away when I spoke to them- I decided to go for the scrying method. However, I think DX or one of his friends (Miracleman, even) must have put anti-scrying nets up, because as soon as I knew the name of the place, I came over rather sick.

It didn't help that the house tried to kill me in the night, either. Trouble with living in a vampire house, even one that's well shaded by trees, is that it not only produces it's own dust, but that it drinks your blood while you're asleep. I woke to find myself in bed (the house has some helpful moments), with the crystal ball still turned on and a medium to large hole in my neck, as if a brick had been shoved roughly in.

But what's this the crystal's showing? A devil bunny with goblin minions? No, they're gremlins. I do remember some of my demon anatomy. I don't think that can be good news for the town.

I debate getting out of bed and trying to warn somebody. The bucket (where did that come from?) fills up another half inch, and I decide that it is probably better to saty where I am for the time being. After all, the powerful wizards around here should be able to handle this on thier own, with no help from a humble cult leader. Espcially if they aren't-- I glance at the crystal again, where Miracleman and his lady-friend are getting re-aquainted-- distracted.