Once more, I bring quill to paper to relate a tale I have garnered from the most potent of a ranger's abilities: Living it out. The faint backdrop for the scene being my newly arrived presence to the Treetop Keg and Winery Tavern in eastern Yew, where I had finally return after a self imposed seclusion to Skara Brae. There, I found a very Spiritual part of myself that had been missing. And so I had returned, a Ranger. At least, in Spirit.

I entered the Tavern that Sunday eve, cold and damp from an exhausting day of making bows for the local bowyers. I had long wanted to return to this place, but had not the courage to do so. Knowing how much of this place was influential in my Mentor's death, it was quite obvious why I tried to avoid the place. But the fact remained it was the only Tavern in Yew, and I needed a fine drink to chill my bones. Funny how old I sound, when I just celebrated my sixteenth Birthing Day the other week or so.

Within I spoke briefly with the patrons, namely due to the addition of Ashcroft as a surname. Not truly my name, or my Mentor's, but we had both adopted it to honor a cherished friend and teacher who had left us. But eventually, the Lord Belgarion arrived, whom I was greatly happy to see. For he was renowned throughout the town for tricking the Dragon Azhur thrice or so now into leaving the Hermit Rhysart alone, without knowing it. So I called to the Lord when the initial hails ended, and mentioned to him my honor in meeting him. He too was honored apparently, saying he knew my Mentor, Jill. I told him of her fate, but he insisted she was alive and had seen her the other day. Now this woman had long suffered from her own ghosts, so I did not find it entirely impossible to believe she was not haunting the area, but I agreed with him in good terms, and headed outside to see what all the commotion had been.

Gathered outside were two warriors, flanking the Hermit himself, who eagerly tried to speak to us. When the Lady herself, Kazola, arrived, we got the Hermit speaking, and he told us an incredible tale. Apparently the great white hart whom had eluded him for so long, had been spotted near the Dungeon Despise, and might have wandered in. He thought that the creature was his only chance of defeating his mortal enemy, Mordread, so we started forming a small band to rescue the creature. I decided I would aid the man, knowing it would allow me to truly test my skills in battle, and to help the people the Doctor had loved. And so, with a few Gate Travel spells, we headed off.

Dungeon Despise had never been visited by my Mentor, or if it had, she had failed to mention it. It was a sprawling network of caverns, leading inexplicably lower and lower. Occasionally the smallest of tremors would knock stones loose to bounce upon plate mail. We decided on heading downward, through no cause of my own, but lucky we were to do that. Within, the opposition was not much. We fought mainly mongbats, giant spiders and scorpions (which made a mess due to the recent influx of poisons in the area), and slimes. At our first opportunity, we headed lower, and noticed a strange increase in ghoul activity. Not native to the area, they were accompanied more often than not by specters. Warned by Rhysart these creatures would eat the Hart, we made haste to slay all we could. He also mentioned that the Hart would head for water, since it might be thirsty, so we headed for an underground lake therein. And we were pretty sure we had found the hart. For upon the isle was score upon score of ghoul, spectre, and mage. They all attacked with a vicious ferocity, and I must admit, one hit me pretty hardly, for I soon found myself dead. Not truly angered by this, seeing as how often this happened to me when I was younger and still in my thieving days. So I set off through the murky grayness, still vaguely hearing Kazola's or Belgarion's warnings not to wander off. Not heeding these calls, I ran through the now incorporeal bodies of the attackers, and across the bridge. I searched the small isle on the other side, and almost immediately found the Hart, huddled among a pile of treasure heaped high, and quite skittish. I ran back to the battle, and waited until someone had the opportunity to resurrect me, when I proceeded to tell them what I had seen. With renewed vigor, we fought on, be it with bow, sword, crossbow, mace, or magic, and eventually made our way through the swarms on the bridge. And there, on the other side, all Anarchy broke loose as we all scattered to finish off the remains, and protect Rhysart and the Hart from their attackers. Meanwhile, the Hermit had been busy taming the creature, and it soon bore the name, Whitey. We held off the last of the monsters, and finally they were gone. Defeated by the combined efforts of numerous factions. I strode soon there after to Belgarion's side, as he was one of the few people I knew there, and was not quite ready to trust most of the looting and sorting warrior's around me. Finally, a gate was opened to allow us all to return to Rhysart's cave, which we happily leapt into.