Technically, Lakewest is located in the region of Two River. Realistically, the sleepy little beach resort doesn't give a damn where it is. It's not like the town of Toto, which people instantly associate with Muse, nor that blasted hole in the ground Crom, which carries with it the legacy of Tinto. When people imagine Lakewest, they don't think of Two River or Makai or Ridley or anything else- they think of endless beaches, gorgeous sunrises, and a whole lot of relaxation.

Pohl and I arrived in Lakewest via a ferry from Kuskus early in the morning. I guess since you folks are taking the time to read this, I'll try and put that into more poetic terms- "The sun had just begun to belch its orange hues across the golden beaches of Lakewest." Isn't it odd how I can mix beauty and vulgarity in the same sentance?

Why do I put so much emphasis on a place that's not even the central focus of this chapter? A better question might be to ask why I keep asking these rhetorical questions. The reason is simple- description and contrast. For just about every point I made about Lakewest, the inverse holds true in the dirty, cramped, backwards village of kobolds. See? I'm getting the hang of this writing thing.

In my life I've met exactly three decent kobolds. The first was (naturally) Sir Ridley Wizen, who I became good friends with sometime after all this stuff takes place. I'm sure that's a story for another day, and it's probably Ridley's to tell. The second was an old swordsman chum from the War of Liberation who we called Black Ears. Black Ears was kind of a squat, scrawny fellow, but he was tough as a swarm of bees. I've sat back in awe as the kid bared his teeth (and subsequently his blade) at some seriously large monsters, and was trampled on. Good ole' Black Ears always licked his wounds and bounced back, though. The last was an ambitious kobold from Two River named Gengen, who I'll more than likely get to in later chapters (unless he gets to me first).

As for the rest of the wretched, canine race, I could do without 'em. They're nasty, cheap, rude, and have a tendancy to bark in your face. Get a bunch of 'em together under a powerful leader and they're a force to be reckoned with, but normally you'd want nothing to do with the hold lot of dogfolk, especially if you've got some kind of phobia to fleas.

Most of the folks in Jowston feel the same way, human folks at least. Toran too, for that matter. Maybe it's all just unnecessary xenophobia, but the idea of one of my comrades barking at the enemy for intimidation purposes is enough to bug me out. Needless to say, I was shocked out of my boots when Pohl suggested we make a stop in the tiny, tent-ridden kobold outpost on our way to Tinto. In fact, when the question was first delivered to me, I groaned.

"C'mon, kid, why do you wanna stop here? We can make it to Drakemouth by nightfall easy, and it's not like we're short on supplies." To emphasise my point, I finished my sentance and then took a generous schwill out of my canteen.

"It's a business venture, Vik (the kid had taken to calling me Vik, which I might have minded in the instance that I actually cared). Sure, kobolds are stupid, crude little mutts, but they have serious cash to back their barks." Pohl went on to explain that the private miners in Tinto and Crom sometimes pulled up mountains of shimmering (albeit worthless) crystal from the ground. Some of those crystals are used to house runes or make mirrors or the like, some even gets melted down to form ornamental window designs, dinnerware, and weaponry. Some ends up as cheap jewelery. But the majority of it just gets thrown away. There are some barmy folk who pay big money for shiney crystal though, and those barmy folk are the kobolds.

"My idea is to check the prices at the kobold trading outpost here. If the price is high enough, we could stock up on crystal while we're in Tinto and make a killing selling it off to the kobolds on our way back."

A smile crept across my face. "You're a wily little brat, Pohl," I said, giving a nod of approval. It set back our journey to Tinto a day (moreover a day spent amongst the kobolds), but it potentially lined our greedy little adventuring pockets with much-needed potch.

If I had known then what I know now I would have avoided that grimy kobold tent like the bubonic plague.

When I was thirteen, horror had a name in the city of North Window. A name that chilled your spine and sent your knees knocking something fierce, if they didn't buckle on you entirely. You could hear her coming up on you a mile away- she was built like an ox and at least thrice as brutal. She had no qualms with picking a member of our little gang out at random and persisting in pounding him into a fine pulp. Her reasons? No one knew. No one cared. When you saw her coming down the central road in North Window, you scatterd, fearing for your mortal existance.

That described Barbara on a good day. And when she was fifteen. Naturally, when caught sight of her carrying on a conversation with the kobold trader at the far end of the post, my first instinct was to turn into some obscure jelly-based life form and melt conveniently into the dirt floor.

"Vik? You okay? I'm going to take a peek at the current pricing trends... be back in a second."

I couldn't tell whether or not Pohl took his leave, because my vision was starting to blur. I could only imagine that he was setting his whole crystal scheme into motion, so I responded with a few nonsensical gibberish syllables and fell into what resembled a nervous sitting position on a nearby bench.

I swear I felt the ground shake and the sky tear itself apart as Barbara approached me. Maybe it'll be okay, I told myself. After all, it's been a long time. I'm much bigger now than I was then. She probably won't even recognize me. Long breath. Or maybe it's not even her. It's not like she could have escaped Neclord. Long breath. But it has to be her... looks just like her. And besides, Neclord woulda dropped down cold after tasting her sour blood.

"Oof!"

A mighty slap my back knocked the wind clear out of me and sent my thoughts reeling into various directions. I flew clear off my perch on the bench and landed face-first on the "floor" of the tent. When I looked upward amidst a sea of stars and tweetie birds (take it from me, kiddies, they do exist), Barbara towered over me, glaring at me with her enormous eyes, her arms crossed over her gigantic form. "Hey Vikkie! How ya doin'!?"

First thought- curl up in a fetal position and whimper until she left. Second thought- no, wait a minute... I'm an adult now, not just a little kid. It would be stupid of me to do something like that. Third thought- I'm not exactly a small guy anymore, either. If she wanted to fight, I'd throw her through the flippin' wall.

"Well Vikkie? You gonna stand up and say hi to yer old friend Barbara, or do I have to drag ya to your feet?"

I picked myself up. To my surprise, when I was standing I was a full head taller than Barbara was. There were the same sadistic eyes that had tortured my mind since childhood, that awkward, ugly beak-like nose that was the focal point of so many nightmares. Say something, Viktor, don't just babble around like an idiot.

"Uh, hi, Barbara, long time, uh, no see."

Stupid, stupid, stupid. She oughtta punch you for that.

"Good ta see ya after so many years, Vikkie. Good ta see you weren't shredded like the rest of the folks back home, aye?" She elbowed me in the gut and chuckled. I doubled over and grunted, but she didn't notice. No, wait. That was impossible. Of course she noticed. She just didn't give a damn.

"What brings ya back to Jowston, Vikkie? I heard that you made quite a name for yerself down in the Scarlet Moon Empire. What'd ya do, kill the emporer?"

I shrugged. I knew she was joking, she was obviously trying to toy with my mind, back me into a corner so she could proceed to pummel me just like old times. But I didn't want to lie to her. That's just not my style.

"You could say that. I guess I just wanted to wander around the old familiar tromping grounds for a while."

Yeah, that sounds genuine. You are a hero, after all. Now say something back. What's she been up to?

"What've you been doing with yourself, Barbara?"

I pity the guy she's married to.

"Actually, Vikkie," she said, stroking her chin as though in thought. I was convinced that had Barbara not shaved regularly she would have sported a thick, full beard. I could have sworn that she was scratching the stubble...

"Actually I'm going through rough spots with my hubby Sal. He wants to dissolve the trading business and settle down more permenant-like."

May the good lord have mercy on Sal's unfortunate soul...

I knew Sal, actually. He was part of the gang back home. He seemed to enjoy Barbara's abuse, drinking it all in with some kind of twisted admiration. In fact, while I was running an errand to Kuskus (only to return to North Window to find the place full of rancid zombies), Barbara had dragged Sal off onto some kind of romantic retreat.

That's when it hit me. Barbara hadn't been there when Neclord attacked- she and Sal both survived the attack.

She and Sal and me were the only survivors. That must've been why she was treating me so... nicely now. Geez... if that wasn't the great lord almighty of misnomers, I don't know what is.

But there was a sense of compassion in Barbara now that I had never seen before. I pieced together what had happened in my mind- Barbara got tired of wherever she had run off to and drug Sal (probably bruised head to toe and grinning ear to ear like the stupid idiot he was) back home only to find the freshly dug graves that I had dug. All her friends and family were dead.

Everyone.

Even me.

I'm not too proud to admit this, but I actually felt compassion for Barbara. Here, for the first time, was someone who understood what I went through years ago... as a teenaged kid barely used to the world's terrors and disappointments, Barbara was forced out into reality because of the heinous act of the undead.

Flux and flow of the universe, though. Couldn't have been helped.

Barbara and I had a parting of ways. She was going to head back to her home in Toto and make another go at it with Sal. I told her I'd drop by and see her if I was ever in the area. She patted (punched? crushed? shattered?) me on the back again and took her leave. She was planning on making a killing selling some of the local delecacies off at the post in South Window. I told her I'd definately keep that in mind.

My ass hit the bench hard and my mind, oily with thoughts of the past, fell into my hands. I tried to massage the pain out of my temples though, looking back at it now, I don't really think I had a headache.

"Hey Vik. If we can score a good price on crystals out in Tinto, we can sell 'em off here at 1800 potch a pop."

I didn't answer. Well, yeah I did, but not his question. "I'm tired..." I said. "I want to lay down..."

"Okay, Vik. I'll book us some cots at whatever rat-infested dump these bow-wows call an inn."

Same place as me. All those graves, all the life lost. Barbara had been in the same god damn place as me.

My mind raced. This was a mistake. Coming back to Jowston was a mistake. It hurt to much. I should have just stayed in Toran with McDohl and Lepant... if Flik wanted to run off and be some kind of chivilrous hero on his own, that should have been his own damn business. Besides, it's not like the two of us were buddy-buddy or anything. Hell, I didn't even know where he was at the time.

It just hurt to much. And the last thing familiar to me, the old man, my last ties to my old life, was gone now. I had to forge a new life now, in this painful world I tried so hard for so many years to forget.

Get some sleep, Viktor... at least it's over now. You killed him, remember? You and Lord McDohl and that kid Hix... you killed the son of a bitch who did this to you... so you can rest now...