1. Preface: An Introduction.
   
   
2. Chapter 1: The beginning.
   
   
3. Chapter 2: An not-so auspicious start.
   
   
4. Chapter 3: Nightmares and drow elves.
   
   
5. Chapter 4: A vast and sudden understanding.
   
   
6. Chapter 5: Hunger is the mother of incantation.
   
   
7. Chapter 6: Titles to bestow.
   
   
8. Epilogue: The Present.
   
   

Preface: An Introduction
The Fated. Hmmm... what can I say about the clan that has become my life, my family, and my only salvation at times? Well, when all else fails, fall back upon tradition and start at the beginning. Incidentally, I am Torm D'Saryon, Beta Factol of The Fated, and it is I to whom the master has entrusted this telling of our humble beginnings. Much of it is hazy, but I will re-tell it as best I can.

Chapter 1: The beginning.
I am told that my Lord, Mouseglove, began as a mortal drow in a city long forgotten. I have spoken with him, but he has no recollection of his time as a mortal, so that part of the story must be passed off as legend until evidence can be found to prove it real. Regardless, it was shortly after he became aware of his godhood that he decided to spend his time pursuing his one true love: knowledge. He devoted all his time to the learning of rare magics, the discovery of new and previously unexplored areas of the realms, and the secrets of the mortal world. Soon, however, he discovered that there was much more information than he had time to gather, and he found himself chafing at having to spend his time gathering the 'mundane' information of the mortal realm instead of searching for hidden lands, forgotten spells and other assorted godly lore. It was then that a young priest, accompanied by his unlikely ogre friend, caught his attention.

Chapter 2: A not-so auspicious start.
It was pure fate, and something we have since chuckled over, that brought about my association with my companion, Crunch. I had been wandering through the countryside north and east of my hometown of Mesraht, and was travelling alone out of town for the first time. Of course, I got hopelessly lost, and despaired of ever finding civilization again, until I heard what sounded to be a the hammer and anvil of a smithy in the distance. Hopeful, I went forward, and found myself face-to-face with a large ogre warrior. The sound I had heard was him beating on a large metal container with his massive sword, in an attempt to get it open. He spotted me only after I could no longer contain my chuckling, and looked at me, not with anger, but with a sad expression. He said something I couldn't understand, and looked down at the jug. I could see the problem immediately: There was a latch on the jug that his ogre fingers were too large to undo. I walked slowly forward, holding my arms out at my sides in what I hoped was a peaceful gesture, and after getting what I took to be a grin from him, reached out and opened the latch on the jug. Needless to say, if you've ever been hugged by an ogre, you understand what I felt like after that. He was very happy, to say the least, and appeared so grateful that, when I turned to leave, he swung his sword over his shoulder and followed after me. I now had a companion it seemed, but I was still no closer to finding my way home.

After two days more of wandering, it seemed I would never be warm again. My food had run out the day before, and even my new companion was having trouble masking the rumble that emitted from the region of his stomach. I came to realize at that point that it was possible that I might die out in the wilderness, and felt that just a tad bit unfair. This was my first time exploring on my own; how was I to know I would get lost so easily? I believe, if memory serves, I expressed my most heartfelt longing for the knowledge of how to survive in the wilderness, and how to get home, out loud to my companion who didn't understand, but clumsily patted me on my head and grinned his toothy grin at me anyway, as if to reassure me that everything would be all right.

Chapter 3: Nightmares and drow elves.
It was then that I heard an odd sound, like the whisper of a shadow leaving its darkness, and turned to find my nightmares come to life in front of me! A drow elf, clad all in black silk, wielding a gleaming silver sabre and stiletto stood before me, smiling at me in a way that made my toes curl and my stomach tighten. A drow elf, the scourge of the known realms, betrayer of worlds, slayer of children, and a dozen other stories, each more frightening than the one before, flashed through my mind as I stared at him, mouth open in shock. My companion must have noticed, however, and stepped in front of me, sword out, growling at the drow. I wanted to warn him, but I realized that he wouldn't understand my words. The drow's smile faded a bit, and he said something in a soft, strangely lyric tongue that I didn't understand, and began to walk around my self-appointed guard. I muttered something like "Oh gods, preserve me now...", and the drow stopped, and cocked his head at me. It was this that caught my attention, and made me, for the first time, consider that perhaps not all drow were the evil demons I had heard about. He then did something that made me both breathe more easily and set me on guard: He sat down. He just backed up, and sat down with his back against a nearby tree. He the drew his sabre and stiletto and laid them on the ground back to his left, and returned his hands to his lap, crossing them comfortably. I was getting more and more confused by the minute, but my companion had already sheathed his weapon and sat down with a thud that rattled my teeth. I looked at him, then at the drow, then back at him, and, sighing in resignation, sat down beside my ogre friend, keeping my eye upon the drow.

The drow studied me for what seemed a long time, saying nothing. He had bright lavender eyes that seemed in direct contrast to his midnight-blue skin and winter-white hair, and his hands seemed the deft, slender hands of a mage, not the scarred, battered hands of an infant killer. I think the first words he spoke were only after my stomach growled loudly, making me flush with embarassment. He peered at me, and said in soft voice, "Was that something you intended to do?" His voice was smooth, and he spoke the common tongue with an almost musical accent, very reminscent of the tongue he has spoken in before. It took me a moment to realize that he was referring to the sound my stomach had made, and I replied, "I'm sorry, it... it does that when I'm hungry." This seemed to puzzle him, for he leaned forward and looked intently at my midsection. I've never been to a surgeon, although I know some who have, and having him look at me reminded me of the stories I'd heard about when the surgeon sees something he doesn't like in someone's innards, that is to say, it unnerved me. "It would appear", he said after a moments contemplation, "that you require the intake of solid matter to continue to function. Do all mortals require such... unusual fuel?" Without thinking, I replied "Well, of course they do. Eating is a natural function for any mortal....."

It was then that the word 'mortal' penetrated my brain, and sent fear screaming into every nerve of my body. Mortal? Did this mean that the drow before me was... not mortal? I had heard very little of the gods in my town, preferring to spend my time learning to make bows and fletch arrows, which was my family business. "Ahhhh... sir?" I asked, trying not to sound as frightened as I really was, "Why did you ask if all 'mortals' required food? Are you... not a mortal?" As frightened as I was, I think that what he did next was the only thing he could have done that would not have frightened me more: He laughed. "Ah, forgive me. I am unaccustomed to dealing with the mortal world." He smiled and stood up, "I am called Mouseglove. I am the self-appointed god of Knowledge in this land, and I greet you with peace and good will." I was confused. I had heard nothing of this 'god', and, as such, was hardly inclined to believe him outright. "Forgive me, Lord, but I have never heard of any god named Mouseglove," I said, daring to look him in the eye.

Suddenly, I heard a sound to my left, a sound which I immediately identified as a swarm of angry bees diving at me. I rolled to my right and came up with a stick in my hand, only to see that my companion had fallen asleep during my conversation with the drow, and had begun to snore. I would have laughed out loud, except that, as I had rolled to avoid the swarm, the drow had vanished. Looking around, I was shocked to see him, sabre and stiletto in hand, standing over my sleeping bodyguard. "He's just snoring," I said quickly, hoping that no harm would come to him. "Snoring?" Mouseglove said, "Is it painful? It sounds excruciating." He peered at him, and after sheathing his weapons, poked him gently with his finger. The ogre gave a loud snort and came awake, looking the drow full in the face.

On a side note, if you've never heard an ogre scream in utter terror, consider yourself lucky. I have since heard the death keen of a dragon and the wail of an elven banshee, but both pale in comparison to the sound I heard that day. But I digress.

My companion dived away, and yelled something in a harsh, gutteral language as he drew his blade and advanced on the drow. Mouseglove simply stood his ground, smiling, and then responded in the same gutteral tongue, saying something I couldn't understand, but its effect upon my companion was obvious. He stopped, his mouth fell open, and, grinning like an idiot, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head to the drow. When he stood up, he looked over at me and grinned the toothiest grin I'd seen come to his huge face yet, and began telling me something important, unfortunately in that same gutteral tongue as before. I shook my head, indicating that I still didn't understand, which brought another puzzled look from Mouseglove. "Do you mean to tell me that you can't understand what he's saying?", he asked me with geniune disbelief, "It's such a simple tongue..." Simple, hah. "Simple to one who already knows it, but I have never heard that tongue spoken before," I snapped out, my anger overcoming my common sense, for if this drow was indeed a god, it wouldn't do to make him angry. Fortunately for me, he didn't seem to notice my anger, or perhaps he didn't understand it... I'll have to ask him about that someday. He merely looked at me, looked at my companion, and made an obscure gesture at each of us in turn. "There," he said, smiling, "That solves that little problem." I looked down at myself, and then at my companion, but saw no difference. "What is it that you did, Lord?" I asked.

Chapter 4: A vast and sudden understanding.
Quite unexpectedly, a deep voice to my left said "What who do, to me or you?" I turned, mouth open with disbelief, and looked at my companion who had just spoken to me in my own language. "You... you speak common? Why didn't you say anything before now?" The ogre grinned and said, "Me no know how, me learned just now." I looked back at Mouseglove, the probability of his claim rushing into my mind like water over a high fall. "You... you just taught him how to speak the common tongue?" I blurted out. "And you to speak his native tongue as well," Mouseglove said, smiling softly, "It makes communication so much easier, doesn't it?" I looked into my mind, and attempted to speak in the harsh gutteral language I'd heard earlier. It sounded very strange, coming from my mouth, but, in that previously unutterable tongue, I said to my companion "I am called Torm D'Saryon." I imagine that his look of shock must have been a mirror of my own when he spoke in my language, but he recovered quickly and said "Crunch be me name since you tell me same." Grinning, he stuck out his meaty hand, which I accepted, wincing in preparation for the crushing grasp that I was sure would follow, but his hands were surprisingly gentle.

"Excellent," Mouseglove said, stepping up to the two of us and laying his hand atop ours, "It's always good when travelling companions know each other's name." He looked at me, then at Crunch, then back at me. "It seems that I know little of the mortal world as of yet. I would know more about your world, but I fear I have little time to do the research myself." Pausing momentarily, he seemed to look inward as if seeking the answer to a difficult question, "Ah, there is the knowledge I was searching for." With a curious gesture, he pulled a book from thin air, and begain leafing through the pages as the book floated near his shoulder. "There." Pointing at a page, he began to read silently to himself, nodding and smiling as he went along. Finally, after several pages, he closed the book, waved a hand, and the book vanished. "I know how we shall do this, if you are agreeable."

Once again, a chill crept into my body. What was it we would need to agree upon? Was he to dissect us? Would he take over our bodies to experience mortality as only one in a mortal shell could? I realized that my doubts as to his divinity had evaporated, leaving only my fear that a drow god would be as evil as the mortal drow were reputed to be, a fear that wasn't really justified any longer, but I was so completely out of my element that I suppose I was almost hysterical. "I am in need of a clergy", Mouseglove said, "and I sense in you a desire for knowledge that I have not seen in others. Therefore, I am offering to make you my first priest. Your title would be Beta Factol, as I am the Prime Factol, and you would lead my mortal church." I gasped. Me? A priest? I had never though of a religious calling before, but standing here in front of a god whose sole thirst was for knowledge, a thirst that mirrored my own secret yearnings, I came to a quick decision. "Lord," I said calmly, "I would be honored. I don't know if I'll make a very good priest, but knowledge is something that I've always coveted, and I know I can be of value to you in aquiring information that you seek. But," I said, looking at Crunch, "what of my companion? He has proven to be loyal and trustworthy even before we could understand one another." I looked at Crunch, and was astonished to see that he had once again fallen asleep. "Crunch...," I said, gently poking his shoulder, "Wake up. It's me, Torm." He opened one eye, and smiled sleepily. "Me know you be Torm, but me nice and warm." Chuckling, Mouseglove said softly, "Crunch, would you be willing to take up the life-long position of guarding Torm? He is to be my high priest, and he will need a good and solid warrior at his side." Squinting at Mouseglove, Crunch looked to be thinking seriously about it, saying finally, "Me will watch me friend, all the way until the end." "Done, then!" Mouseglove exclaimed, looking genuinely happy.

Chapter 5: Hunger is the mother of incantation.
It was then that my stomach grumbled too loudly again, and I realized that Crunch and I were still very hungry, and thirsty as well. Mouseglove chuckled and waved his hands, and suddenly, I knew instinctively that I possessed the skills to provide food and water for us. I spoke the arcane symbols and wove my hands in an intricate dance, and with a soft 'pop' a large fruit appeared in my hands. Handing it to Crunch, I spoke another incantation, holding my empty canteen in both hands, and with another soft 'pop' the canteen quickly filled with water. Looking up to ask how this was possible, I saw that Mouseglove had disappeared.

It was then that I discovered two silver balancing scales sitting on the ground. Each was small enough to be held easily in one hand, and I picked one up to examine it. Crunch followed my example, picking up the other one in his large, gnarled hand, and thus it was that both of us heard the voice of our lord. "Torm, Crunch, you can hear me, I trust?" I looked quickly around, but he had not re-appeared. "Lord, where are you? I cannot see you," I asked aloud. From seemingly nowhere, Mouseglove's voice drifted through my mind, "I speak to you now through the magic of the holy symbols you hold in your hands. These will be your badge of office, and it is through these that you may communicate directly with me via thought. They also hold other powers that I leave to you to discover." Looking down at my newly acquired holy symbol, I wondered what those other powers might be, when Crunch suddenly disappeared. "Excellently done!", my master's voice crowed in my head. "Crunch, you are truly ingenious to have discovered how the psychoportive powers of the scales work in such a short period of time!" From some distance off, yet still quite clear, I heard Crunch 'say', "Me get thoughts of home on and sudden me long gone." I looked at the scales in my hand and thought of Mesraht, but nothing happened. Frustrated, I wondered aloud, "How come he gets to go home and...," and suddenly I was standing inside a gray and blue marbled entrance hall. Crunch was standing there, looking with suspicion at the set of scales he had obviously dropped upon the floor upon his arrival. "This is where we will co-ordinate your activities from," Mouseglove said in my mind. "This will be your home away from home. Explore, and discover the other secrets I have placed here for you."

I won't go into detail about the place that was to become our headquarters, save to say that it had a ready supply of food, water, and even scales to replace those that we might lose, or that we would give to others who were to join our organization. The most wonderful was the room Crunch took to calling the 'love room', a room where our master's presence was readily appearent, and due to his divine touch, all wounds and weariness seemed to fade much more quickly then anywhere else.

Chapter 6: Titles to bestow.
Crunch was given the title of Beta Sword, being the masters head of the warrior caste. In time, others were to join our ranks, and a monastic order even built a mountain fortress to house the collected knowledge of the mortal clan, a group we took to calling The Fated, since it seemed that all of the members were in some way destined to be involved in our ongoing quest for knowledge. A young man from my hometown, named Kjeldor, became the Gamma Factol, and another young man, also from Mesraht, named Orrandor rose to take the position of Delta Factol. The Epsilon Factol, a rather nice young lady from Nirenoft, took up residence in the fortress high atop Fate's Peak, and chose to remain there as her serivce to our lord. And, recently, our master decreed that we begin an order dedicated to the study of wizardly magic, and thus the young enchantress Sylune was christened Beta Magister.

We have continued to strive to learn all that we can, and to make our knowledge available to others, but at a price. Our Lord explained that, although knowledge must be free to circulate, as reapers of that knowledge, we would not be respected if our knowledge were given away, nor would we have any means to support the clergy, our experiments, or to augment the funds of our monestary. And so it was decided that we would sell our information, priced according to the difficulty encountered in its acquisition, and turn those monies over to the clan for use in supporting our future efforts.

Epilogue: The Present.
And thus, like a weary gladiator, we come to the current end of the story. Our lord has proven to be the most powerful god in the Realms, but his unassuming presence and his lack of interest in worship have made him an entity respected throughout the realms, and, by association, has lent his reputation to his followers as well. It is for this reason that our clan grows slowly, for we take only those who prove themselves to be of honorable disposition, of agile mind, and of loyal faith, into our extended family. We continue to grow slowly, and, as always, we continue to observe and note all that happens within our field of view... and some that is beyond.

I am, and shall remain, my Lord's most devoted disciple, Torm D'Saryon, Beta Factol of The Fated, and High Priest of our Lord Mouseglove.