Once more I cross the universe in search of evil to vanquish. This time however, my efforts are guided. This time, I am a brother in the folds of The Syndicate!

Taking a new form in another world has become little bother. It's adjusting to the limitations after having become powerful in another world that takes time and patience. Ah, but I remember these lands! 'Twas some time ago that I last stepped foot in this perilous world. Much has remained the same, and yet I note a subtle strangeness that I must adapt to quickly or I shall perish for my ignorance. Britannia has never been kind to the unwary adventurer.

I smile as I remember that on one of the fragments of this broken world, I am a great warrior of some skill. I also wield magicks both fearsome and gentle. It is a pity that this is not that shard. But I digress, Lord Dragons didst decree that this was the shard that I must focus my energies upon. This is the place I must, for a time, call home. I am not without some resources. As this world allows one to have as many as five bodies in which to traverse a shard, I have one advantage over one new to these lands. I already have a smith of some skill that forges plate mail armor! This I can sell and stash the gold for one of my alter egos to take up and turn into valuable skill.

After having safely stored a few thousand gold in the bank for this form, which I have named Rhaldromik, I am ready to equip myself. A Grand Master-made Katana should suffice for now. Ah, and this suit of leather fits me well! Now to pick up a shield and I shall be ready to ask the shopkeepers for their advice. After having spoken with several shopkeepers and learned what skills they could teach me, I am now skilled enough in the arts of combat to take on some of the denizens of the forest near Britain.

Mongbats, what disgusting, vile creatures! Such daemon spawn are weak, but they are all I can handle at my current level of skill. They fall before my blade and my magicks easily however and I gain skill and fame quickly. And yet, I feel as though I am overlooking something. The changes wrought in this world impede me in some way I have not yet fathomed. My arts in warfare advance quickly, and yet my magickal skills suffer. After much careful thought, I have made my decision.

I return to town and sell my lovely katana and shield for an amount much less than their actual worth. I will not need them any longer. My true focus lies with magick and I can not become a Grand Master mage without sacrificing the art of swordplay. I will miss the closeness of my enemies. Their pitiful screams as I slice their evil bodies to ribbons! From this day forth, my magickal arts will strike from afar and I will have to make due with the sizzling of their flesh to satisfy my battle lust. I focus my thoughts and prepare myself to forget what I have learned in the art of swords. I must now focus upon those things that I shall need in my magicks.

Ah, the wisdom of Lord Dragons once more is a balm to my wounded soul! Though I must give up the art of swords, I must now learn to strike my foes with my bared fists before I can truly become a mage! I shall feel their bones snap beneath my very hands! I prepare myself once more and gather up reagents for healing spells. I also find an amusing staff of Explosion that I will keep on hand in case some pitiful thief or murderer should venture too close.

This time, as I am weak in these arts and can no longer depend on my blade to do my work, I choose to venture into the vile underbelly of the city of Britain. A dank sewer lies beneath the city and is filled with foul creatures that I might easily vanquish. Or so I thought! Though the rats in this place fall before my fists like wheat before a scythe, the frogs and larger rats do great damage to me. I am lucky that I prepared and am able to heal my wounds. I would be dead a thousand times over had I not the reagents necessary to keep myself whole.

A foul murderer didst lurk here in the sewers. I prepared my staff, ready to blast his idiot head to paste, when along comes a warrior in lovingly crafted armor. The warrior sliced the foul murderer in twain with but two sword strokes! I did celebrate his victory. The warrior left as silently as he came before I could congratulate him on a job well done. I stored my staff in my pack once more and returned to pummeling the denizens of the sewers.

Day and night go here with little attention paid by me. Tired and dirty from a long war, I climb out of the sewers, now a Journeyman in skills I knew not upon entering, into the blinding light of day. I clean myself off and find new armor to outfit my form. Although I am learning mage craft, I have found that I can still wear some of the leather armor, which affords me a bit of protection. And with the increased strength I have from my arduous tasks, I can now wear the studded armor! I must take care not to wear too much of this, for even this small amount of metal can impede my meditations. But something calls, I must make haste.

I travel south from the city of Britain. Something nags at the corner of my mind and I must seek it out. Ah, what a scatter brain I am! Shaking my head as I near the city of Trinsic, I remember that there is a rune nearby that can transport me to the city of Arx Draconis, the city of my brothers and sisters, the city of The Syndicate. Once there, I shall seek out my brothers and sisters. Perhaps they will ask of my travels in another realm where I have fought the great fight. Perhaps they will ask of my adventures in the lands of Norrath where there too, The Syndicate holds sway and I am a Shaman of some skill. I will seek them out and hope that here too, they will welcome me. I have a great deal of skill to gain before I can fight alongside my brothers and sisters in this world, but perhaps they will guide me so that I may quickly join their ranks.

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