Deep in the perilous depths of the darkest places beneath the earth where the most dire and foul creatures of evil dwell, there Diamond Cascade and his companions came upon the last resting place of the great and terrible dragon-orb, whose unstoppable power would Nothing At All. Little did Diamond Cascade expect to take such a treasure Move Along – Nothing To See unchallenged, yet even he could not have imagined the HORRORS, the FATHOMLESS EVIL, the DIABOLICAL TERROR that guarded this fabulous orb Absolutely Nothing At All Of Any Consequence. Undead horrors beyond descriptions, skeletal creatures whose bones creaked and clattered, rotted shambling things, all fell before the irresistible edge of Diamond Cascade’s blade. Yet these were but the beginning, for deep in the bowels of the earth lay the great SHADE OF EVIL, a formless apparition  so dire and hideous and charged with Dark Power that only Diamond Cascade’s blade could touch it. Long and terrible was duel, and terrible were the wounds given as Diamond Cascade’s companions bravely sought to distract the horror even knowing they could not harm it; yet with the aid of these heroic elves, the foul Prince of Darkness was slain and Diamond Cascade stood victorious.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 11: Turns out that elves aren’t the bunch of dandelion-eating squealy-girl surrender-monkeys you might think.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 12: Apparently, the elvish version of Bull’s Strength also comes with an  urge to wander about bellowing incoherently and smashing stuff up like you’ve just turned into a Minotaur that is almost irresistible. Apparently this includes even hideous soul-sucking undead things from which any sane person (although apparently not elf) would RUN AWAY!

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 13: Turns out it’s remarkably easy to “forget” that you have a magic dagger if you’re an elf. Or maybe that’s just a rogue thing.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 14: Even an elven monster-hunter who’s blind, fighting an incorporeal creature that doesn’t make any sound, using nothing but a funny-looking dagger that he’s only had in his hand for six seconds, will still manage to steal your kill AND carve his initials into the body at the last minute, taking all the glory and leaving you looking like a prawn. (but Bards get the last laugh, Tearth, and you are so EDITED OUT!)

Anyway, how exactly does an incorporeal creature shriek when you stick it with a magic sword? Do they have incorporeal vocal chords?

NEXT WEEK: IT’S NOT MY FAULT YOU NEVER ASKED WHAT I WAS DOING FOR THAT HOUR WHEN I DISAPPEARED OFF SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DUNGEON

I suppose, really, we should have seen the legions of undead horrors coming. I mean, in hindsight, think about it: you’re off to raid the lost and buried remains of an ancient civilisation. Specifically, you;re off to raid the lost and buried bit where they kept a really pokey magic item which, for reasons that are either rather obscure or, more likely, totally fucking lethal, no one else has managed to either find or pillage for a good few hundred years. There’s probably a checklist for such expeditions that read something like this:

Ye Olde Guide to raiding ancient tombes, cryptes, lost civilisationes and generally anywhere that’s undergrounde and longe-forgottene:

Dear Adventurers:

Four things are going to try and kill you on such an expedition:

One: Starvation. The thing about Ye Olde Loste Forgottene Tombes is that they wouldn’t be exactly loste and forgottene if they were half an hour on a pony from a handy Mescos[1] Express. Bring either food, water and someone who can hunt or else bring a Cleric who can Create Food and Water. And look after him/her.

Two: Look, Loste Forgottene Tombes tend to fall down at inconvenient moments. Bring a shovel and a dwarf. And healing potions.

Three: Generally speaking, Anciente Artifactes of Greate Powere aren’t just chucked in a cave with some dead guy and a ‘hey-ho, that’s the end of that.’ Loste Tombes draw Raiders of Loste Tombes and the architects of said Loste Tombes are well aware of this. Expect traps, both magical and mundane. Equip yourself with wizards who can sense magic, elves who have a knack of noticing hidden doors and rogues who will open them. And a cleric.

Four: Loste Tombes are the equivalent of Working Mens Clubs for the undead. Even if your particular Loste Tombe didn’t have any in right from the start (and what self-respecting Loste Tombe architect would ignore such a classic of the genre), it is unlikely to be more than a few days before the first homeless skeletons and zombies have moved in, claimed squatters rights, start playing loud music and generally upsetting the neighbours. Bring plenty of magic swords and a cleric. And a spare cleric.

Actually, there’s six, because there’s also the getting there (see Ye Olde Guide series on Crossing Anciente Jungles, Forestes and/or Desertes) and then the getting back (see the same plus Ye Olde Cliché Guide to How is it the Villaine is Always Awaiting Ye Outside When Ye’ve Just Retrieved An Loste Anciente Artifacte?).

Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, the soul-sucking wraith that’s wafting towards us and us not having anyone who can even spell the name of a half-decent god let alone call on the powers of one and only having the one magic sword. Did I mention the wizards nearly used up all their spells already?

Help?

[1] Ye Olde 24-hour adventurer supply convenience store

NEXT WEEK: THE WRAITH OF KAHHHHHHN (aka VALE SMASH!)

Obviously not a “Knock” spell, because that would just be far too convenient, and clearly what the world needs is for me and the rent-an-elf posse to wander aimlessly across half a continent in search of one, get confused, distracted and probably completely forget what we were looking for in the first place.

There are some creatures of various sorts. Nothing remotely heroic occurred. There is a library. Nothing remotely useful was found. And then there was the floating orb of dragon control nothing else interesting

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 9: Just because the type of undead horror technically known as ‘ghoul’ has a venom on its claws that causes paralysis to all humanoid creatures except elves doesn’t mean that the moment you surround yourselves with ghoul-bashing elves, you won’t walk straight into a posse of things that are almost exactly the same but whose venom DOES paralyse elves. We shall call these ghauls and imagine them to have a fondness for cheese, garlic and speaking wiz a beet of a straaanj ak-seeeent. When this happens, it is best not to be involved in a deep discussion with the only elf capable of swinging a sword in a coherent manner about an old hat you’ve just found and rather removed from the breaking action.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 10: Elvish monster-hunters are fearsome swordsmen, whose skill and talent would strike fear into the heart of any man, even if the elvish monster-hunter is, for some reason, blind. Elves do not question the career choices of their visually impaired brothers, as that would be offensive and rude and the elvish nature is such that all are encouraged to pursue whatever career choices call to them. Nevertheless, it is wise to be aware of this relaxed elvish attitude to both pragmatism and wisdom. While it may be true that it “all balances out in the end over the average elvish lifetime” and when you’ve got that many hundreds of years to recover then almost anything can be written off as a “learning experience,” it is generally considered rude not to mention to said visually impaired monster-hunter that the reason he has no idea why all his friends are running away screaming is that he can’t SEE the entirely SILENT soul-sucking wraith that’s wafting towards him.

It’s also rude not to mention low beams.

NEXT WEEK: SOME MORE REASONS NOT TO BE THE ONLY ONE WITH A MAGIC SWORD

Travelling through the wilderness, seeking the lost treasure with mighty spells and all his wiles, after many great adventures, Diamond Cascade came at last upon the near-buried ruins of ancient Mektropica, a vast and mighty citadel that once rule the world, and yet of which nothing more remains than the spire of a single ancient bell-tower, jutting from the sand. Thus began Diamond Cascade’s last great adventure!

Yadda yadda. Look, we found this tribesman bloke off on some becoming-a-man sort of quest thing, asked directions to the nearest ancient ruin and it turned out is was a couple of days a way and he was sort of heading that way anyway so he took us right to it. But the stuff about searching for months and mighty spells and so forth makes for a better story, so we’ll stick with that. And the tribesman bloke got eaten by the land-shark anyway.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 7: When putting together a bunch of rogues and low-rent wizards (never mind the blind monster-hunter) to knock off the forgotten ruins of some ancient civilisation, elves are a good proposition. They have an uncanny knack of finding doors that others would prefer to remain hidden. However . . .

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 8: Standard elvish wizard 1.0 does come with ‘Detect Magic’ spells pre-installed, but NOT does not come with a ‘Knock’ installation book. When putting together a bunch of rogues and low-rent wizards (never mind the blind monster-hunter) to knock off the forgotten ruins of some ancient civilisation, ensure that your wizards have either received a Service Pack 2.2 upgrade or purchase the Tomb-Raiding spell-casting bundle.

Dispel magic would also have been useful, but we’re talking seriously low-rent wizards here.

NEXT WEEK: WHAT’S IT GOT IN ITS LIBRARIESES

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 5: Land sharks don’t like the way way elves taste. Or smell. Or something – anyway, they don’t like elves. When travelling with a group of dandelion-eaters, do not encounter a land-shark, for in this case, fact number three will not save you.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 6: Despite being dandelion-eating wusses, it turns out that even a blind elf with a big sword can take down a land-shark if he swings it in the right direction. This is not to say very much about elven swordsmanship, which is much the same as that of any other race, but more an observation of the courage that eating dandelions can, apparently, imbue.

Stupid bloody land-shark. Spent days avoiding the bloody thing.

For reasons noted, the blood was largely mine.

NEXT WEEK: DON’T OPEN THE DOOR THAT SAYS DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 2: Elves have good hearing. This means they can hear lions creeping up on you better than you can. This is important to know. When an elf shouts: “There’s a lion creeping up on you!” a wise man will listen. Or possibly run.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 3: Elves, when compared to humans, are a little on the frail side. They don’t quite have the same strength and stamina as those of us with our shorter, more brutal lifespans. This can also be important to know, especially then the lion that has been creeping up on you stops creeping and starts chasing. Remember always – run towards the elf. You don’t need to be faster than the lion, only the elf.

101 Things to Know About Elves Number 4: Elves fancy themselves as wizards. This has a well-founded basis in truth – elves after, in general, more adept at the arcane than the rest of us and living so long means they tend to know at least a little about it. However, you should not be fooled by such generalisations. Just because an elf knows a few spells doesn’t mean he’s bothered to read the spell description that carefully and it doesn’t mean that, under situations of stress such as being chased by a lion, they will use their tricks in necessarily the most optimal way. It certainly doesn’t mean they won’t let off a Scare spell right in the middle of a melee and send you and your sword-brothers all screaming in terror in different directions when they should have been using it on a lion.

NEXT WEEK: SHARKS AGAIN

Many and great were the perils Diamond Cascade and his band of heroes faced on their epic adventure across the southlands to the great desert that was once mighty and Mektropica. Terrible beasts were fought and bested, so many that their tales blur into one. Bloody was Diamond Cascade’s Sword and the southlands became littered with his arrows, yet each time the heroes prevailed until they reached the vast extent of the southern desert. Somewhere out there lay the ruins for which they searched!

Fine, maybe called a hundred-mile wide desert a “beach” might have been misleading, but anywhere, there we were. Pity we have no idea where to look, so I guess we could be here for a while. However, while we search, I have a project to engage my attention: 101 Things to Know About Elves.

Number one: Elves don’t sleep like the rest of us. They sit there with their legs cross and their hands on their knees and their eyes rolling and go ohmmmm a lot, and that seems to be all they need. This can be quite annoying, but it’s best not to comment, as the elves will be the ones who are wide awake while the rest of you are sleeping. It’s best to stay on their good side so they spend this time wisely – i.e. watching for wandering predators and writing poems or whatever it is that elves do in their spare time – rather than spending it riffling through your backpack, stealing your purse, or tying you up and then poking you awake with a stick.

Elves. They’re lovely. OK?

Many were the mighty and brave companions who had valiently and boldy stood at Diamond Cascade’s side in his righteous quest, but those who stood with him on that final journey to Mektropika were the greatest heroes from the most ancient and wise nation of elves: Tiarth the monster-hunter, who would wear a blindfold to face a man in single combat for fear the fight would otherwise be too one-sided; Levincious, master mage capable of bending the very fabric of the universe to his will; Uthan, deadly stalker of all things dark and foul, asssassin of assassins, the hunter whose name brings fear to even the blackest of the drow; and the apocalyptic might of the great mage DREDD, against whose sorceries no man alive or dead may stand and whose mere name makes the very mountains shake. They were the greatest heroes of their age at the height of their power, and they would become legend.

There. Now would you please untie me and stop poking me with the sharp sticks, eh?

NEXT WEEK: A DAY OUT AT THE BEACH (REALLY THIS TIME)

First up is Tiarth, the blind monster-hunting elf who doesn’t even know exactly what he’s looking for – some kind of powerful undead. Tiarth’s specialist subjects are not-being-sneaked-up-on, exotic ranged combat, having-travelled-with-me-before-and-ran-away-without-any-explanation and being the only one here who’s not just out to line their pockets at the expense of everyone else. Tiarth hopes to star in a travelling stage adaption of Blind Fury before becoming a spiritual guru for delinquent young elves who think poetry is stupid. His favourite food is lasagne.

Next we have the first of the brothers from a land far away, Leninseeus or something like that, whose special powers include never being spelt the same way twice, accidentally teleporting through space and time and, uniquely, having-an-interest-in-the-bigger-picture. Levinshias’ hobbies include dandelion weaving and plotting-to-rule-over-large-potions-of-the-world-with-an-iron-fist. When not accidentally teleporting through space and time, he is an active member of the All Male Silvery Moon  Junior Wizards Choir. His favourite food is coconut.

Then we have Uthal, brother to Leveencheops, whose unique skills include pissing off local lords by sleeping with their wives thirteen seconds after accidentally teleporting into their territory and having a backpack that still smells vaguely of wee. Uthal is here because his brother made him, but hopes to make something of himself in this new land nonetheless, preferably as a speak-his-name-in-whispers-lest-he-hear-you murderer-for-hire. When not on quests to loot old temples, Uthal can often be found having a quiet drink in his local tavern where his favourite tipple is pressed burberries over ice.

Last but not least, Wizard Daftboy, magistrate of a small town with no name somewhere on the southern fringes of Osmuld. His specialist abilities include not-hanging-around-to-defend-this-mudhole-town-if-there’s-orcs-coming, using his one and only remaining offensive spell of the day to kick off a fight with a wereshark, and complaining that the Flaming Sphere spell really isn’t that great when everyone around you has +5 or better DEX mods to their Reflex save. Wizard Daftboy hopes one day to open a clinic for unusually open-minded elves ostracised by their own society for their lack of arrogance and xenophobia and to this end he keeps a journal of his travels which he hopes to use as course material – it is thus furthering his aspirations to abuse him. Wizard Daftboy’s favourite food is orc-grass.

They’re elves. They’re all at least 120 years old. And we’re all off on a quest. We could call it… Elfquest!

NEXT WEEK: A DAY OUT TO THE BEACH

So there’s this ancient ring of standing stones and they can teleport you to various other ancient rings of standing stones, scattered around the islands. I know these stones. I’ve heard stories about them from, although not about the teleporting bit but they were always supposed to be magical. There’s this one where some hero or other walks into them at the end of his epic quest and vanishes in a flash of light to be with the gods. Well, apparently not. Apparently he vanished in a flash of light to be on some other part of the island where maybe he could settle down and live a normal life of mild yet inoffensive luxury without people bugging him to go slay this that or the other monster/demon/generic-as-yet-undefined-plague-of-the-land.

Only problem is that these standing stones are at the top of the cliff. And we’re at the bottom. The good news is – there’s a path. The bad news is: its full of traps and riddles and puzzles and death for the unwary, because it’s a way down to the lagoon and so it needs to be protected. The good news again: The people who know where all the traps are and how to solve the puzzles yadda yadda yadda, they’re right here with us. Our friends. No, let’s not be sentimental – people in whose vicinity we’ve managed to spend a night without anyone getting robbed, murdered or other general unpleasantness. And Emmett, who might or might nor be a true actual friend, I’m just not sure any more.

How can you pretend to die in front of someone who looks up to you and then show up again a year later as if it was nothing, just laugh it off as all part of some great plan. Emmett, you’re a JERK. But you’re still my friend. I think. At leas, I’m happy you’re not dead. At the moment.

Anyway, the bad news is that our dear FRIENDS, for whom we are about to depart on a great QUEST full of DANGER from which several of us will NOT RETURN, still think we need to make our own way up their stupid trap-ridden path as some sort of test of our worthiness to die for their stupid trap-ridden cause. Somewhere, there has been a communication error, because I was really quite sure I’d been clear about not wanting to die for anyone’s cause thank-you very much and I’m only doing this for the treasure anyway (and maybe to see if it helps with getting into the hot dragon-lady’s bed) and I DON’T GIVE A STUFF ABOUT YOUR STUPID GAME.

On the other hand, the only other way out of this lake appears to be by sea, The one with the really angry sea-goddess who hates us.

I consider wrapping my Cloak of the Arachnid around my horse and seeing if that means it can Spider-Climb up the cliff while I ride on its back. Just to show them. Screw them and their stupid path. But then it occurs to me that the laws of physics might not be actually totally dead but more lying panting and surly and badly wounded in a corner somewhere, and there’s nothing more dangerous than a cornered and wounded Law of Motion. So maybe not the horse. The path.

I’ll not describe it. Not because that would tell all the hordes of darkness exactly how to get past the traps and riddles, but because it would be dull. All you need to know is: that staircase with all the weak boards on it? Hello? SPIDER-CLIMB! And also smashed now. And that door with the stupid irritating annoying under-your-skin-makes-you-want-to-smash-something smug-assed riddle-speaking Magic Mouth? Well I can’t cast dispel magic and even if I could, I’m sure I wouldn’t be strong enough, but you’re not the only one who can cast Magic Mouth as it happens and so now you can listen to your next stupid riddle to the accompaniment of “All Dragons Are Dicks” by D. Cascade. Really, really, loudly.

There’s other stuff. Someone of it turned out to be really hard to break. And then we get to the top and I realise I’m surrounded by idiot elves I barely even know and that they’re supposed to be my team, and then I get all distracted because she’s there. Damn woman is half-dragon and it’s hard to keep my mouth closed and not drool when I look at her. Not that bright though, not when it comes to people. She could have had me round her little finger with the simplest gift in the world that costs nothing at all. As it is, I wish I’d had the presence of mind to throw her present back at her Ah, well. It IS such a pretty new lute.

Right. I have a purpose. I’m going to be in the position to decide who wins this stupid game of dragons and them I’m going to choose. Suppose I’d better find out something about these poor fools who think they’re going to help me.

What really, REALLY gets me, though, is that we never took our horses with us up their stupid path, so I could have Spider-climbed the cliffs after all.

NEXT WEEK: INTRODUCING… ELF PATROL!