Our party of adventurers was as unlikely a collection as one could imagine:
Bartelome, tartan-clad barbarian shaman; Eoin, halfling druid and muffineer,
and his son, Odica, likewise a druid in training; Fizzlefife, dwarven
paladin; Andamar, high elven wizard, and me, a half-elven bard from Qeynos.
We had just started playing EverQuest days earlier, and had made and re-made
several race and class combinations, playing just long enough to meet
one another in game and decide on our main characters.

In terms of game geography, we could hardly have been more distant from
one another. Norrath, the lands of EverQuest, had three discovered continents
at the beginning of our adventures: Antonica, Faydwer, and Odus. It was
rumored that other continents lay to the southwest and southeast of us,
but none of the brave explorers who had set out for those legendary places
had, as yet, returned to tell the tales of their adventures.

Each
of us had detailed maps of the regions surrounding our home cities or
villages, and most of us had access to a map of the known world; but none
had ever traveled the paths or deep waters we would have to take to meet
one another. We had never left our home cities, had never met face-to-face,
and had no idea what misfortunes might befall us. Had we known the truth
about the demands of the journey, some of us doubtless would have withdrawn
in the beginning. But ignorance was, indeed, bliss. We only knew that
Bartelome was the farthest to the north, in Halas; and that Andamar was
probably the farthest east, in Felwithe. We agreed to meet on the continent
of Faydwer, the land of the elves, for the hunting was rumored to be good
there, and the inhabitants friendly. Fizzlefife, dwarven paladin of Kaladim,
wrote us that the wood elves had sent out a call for help with overcoming
the evil Emperor Crush, of Clan Crushbone, and the woods surrounding the
wood elf city of Kelethin were overrun with orcs. We agreed we would help
the elves rid themselves of this scourge.

Being the farthest north, Bartelome would start his journey first, traveling
south to meet Eoin and Odica in Rivervale. We knew that our worst fate
would be to be overcome by monsters before reaching a friendly village,
where we could re-bind ourselves and find food and drink. Being overcome
by monsters would cause a major setback of days or even weeks. Much depended
on Bartelome's strength and cunning. Too, we knew that highway robbery
was common where highways existed, so we agreed to put our few valuable
items in the bank and travel in our undergarments or whatever rags we
could scrounge together. We could withdraw our copper and equipment once
we reached civilization. There was no end to the teasing Bartelome suffered
as he set out from Halas, clad only in his kilt! Armed merely with a stave,
Bartelome said goodbye to his hometown's snowy streets.

Bartelome's perilous journey was without doubt the most demanding of
all, and would take him from Halas through the Everfrost Peaks, through
the underground tunnels of the gnolls of Blackburrow, and then on through
the Qeynos Hills and into the West Karana plain. In West Karana, we would
meet at the home of distant relatives of mine, then continue together
through the vast plains of the Karanas, through High Hold Pass, and finally
to Kithicor Forest and Rivervale, the city of the halflings. At Rivervale,
Eoin and Odica would give us rest and refreshment among the hobbits, and
from there we friends would travel through the Commonlands and finally
arrive at the large city of Freeport, the home of humans. This was the
plan, but who knew whether the gods would smile upon us, or whether we
would survive the journey or ever return to our home villages again?

Years later, when retelling his adventure, Bartelome chuckled, "My
knowledge of the path of the shaman was as small as the tartan covering
me! Because my barbarian stature was large and my people known far and
wide as fierce warriors, I mistook myself for a fighter and took to hitting
attacking animals or monsters with my medicine bag, little knowing that
my true calling lay in being a priest!"

In spite of his ignorance of the path ahead or even of his own spiritual
calling, Bartelome made it as far as Blackburrow without having to so
much as glare at a passing wolf or bear. Blackburrow presented a problem,
though, for it was overrun with hostile gnolls, and Bartelome's limited
night vision would make his journey through the tunnels deadly. How would
he proceed?

"I shivered just inside the entrance to the burrows for nearly a
day, fearful of going forward and yet unable to turn back," Bartelome
remembered. "Finally, a band of hunters came through and offered
to escort me through the area. One kindly scout even gave me some old
equipment, taking pity on my half-naked state." The gnolls themselves
dropped many items of clothing and weapons that found their way into Bartelome's
hands. At the end of the day-long trip through Blackburrow, Bartelome
found himself nearly fully clad and armed, which served him well during
the remaining journey.

As Bartelome fought his way through Blackburrow with newfound friends,
the rest of our group waited in our respective cities, learning crafting
and other skills that might help us travel to the next continent. On Faydwer,
the wizard and paladin continued training in their respective arts, knowing
that the time would come when the group, together, would face the orcs.
In spite of these distractions, time seemed to stand still as we waited
to hear of his progress.

And progress, he did. After leaving Blackburrow and the group of hunters
who so kindly escorted him through those dank tunnels, Bartelome found
himself in the bright daylight of the Qeynos Hills. He had only a hand-drawn
map, the sun by day, and the stars by night to guide him through what
appeared to be a vast plain. Grizzly bears, rabid wolves, and sometimes
skeletons wandered the area, making solitary travel risky.

"I remember being right happy to get out of those gnoll tunnels,"
Bartelome recalled, "and to feel the good sun on my face. I got myself
turned about since it was about noon and I lost my bearings…so instead
of going south to find my way to western Karana, I went west, which sounded
right to my tired brain. I had to fight many fights alone that day, fending
off snakes, wolves, and even a bear or two."

"Eventually I saw water ahead," Bartelome recalled, "and
thought to bathe myself after so many days of travel and no bath. As I
drew closer to this lake, I saw a dock and a small hut. Imagine my joy
when there I met a barbarian fisherman and his family, who made their
living by fishing and selling odds and ends to the occasional traveler
who passed by! There I was, so many miles away from Halas, with the hot
sun glaring down on me (and me, precious little prepared to suffer it,
having grown up surrounded by snow), enjoying a meal and swapping stories
with someone whose kin, it turned out, lived only a street away from my
own mum and dad, back in Halas."

"I was real grateful to this fellow," Bartelome smiled, "as
he put me on the right path toward the western plains of Karana. Otherwise
I would have wandered around in those hills for days, while my friends
wondered what had happened to old Bart."

Soon enough, Bartelome found himself in the western plains of Karana,
where he hoped to meet up with me. Our plan was to meet at the Miller
family farm, just north of the scarecrow fields. The Millers (Cleet, Tiny,
Henina, and their adopted gnoll pet, Furball the Gnoll) were a hospitable
family who are distant kin of mine along the elven side. Since I was delayed,
Bartelome occupied himself with killing scarecrows and helping the Millers
with their farm work. A day and a night passed, and Bartelome said later
that he grew increasingly worried about me. Where was I?

Where, indeed? I laugh when I think about the predicament I had gotten
myself into. I had packed and re-packed so many times, just sure that
no gruesome fate would await me as it might a lesser adventurer. I was
a bard-my music would carry my feet swiftly past any enemies outside the
city gates, through the Qeynos Hills, and into the western plains of Karana,
where I would arrive at the Miller farm with hardly a hair out of place.

Or so I imagined.

As it actually happened, I barely made it outside Qeynos to the area
north of the city, when I was attacked by an aggressive ranger who mistook
me for a poacher. In spite of my protests and attempts to reason with
this fellow, he kept raining blows and arrows on me. My cries for help
seemed to fall on deaf ears, and I became a virtual prisoner of Qeynos,
trapped at the city gates! Finally, I found a way to slip past this patrolling
ranger and his friend. Their attacks set me back a day in travel, and
led me to see the wisdom of leaving my equipment in the bank.

I set out to meet Bartelome a day late, a bit the worse for wear, and
minus a few articles of clothing. I blush as I recount the tale.

Eventually, I did make it to the Miller farm, where there was dancing
and merrymaking when we fell into each other's arms. Indeed, we had before
then only known one another through letters and from reports of other
travelers. Now we finally saw one another face-to-face. Bartelome found
himself captivated with this saucy minstrel, while I found myself stealing
sidelong glances at Bartelome's powerful build. We were able to gain some
invaluable adventuring and fighting experience as we cleared aggressive
wildlife and scarecrows surrounding the farm. A few days after meeting,
we were ready to begin the long journey through the Karanas, Highpass
Hold, and into the foreboding darkness of the Kithicor Forest. Though
we both were far too inexperienced to undertake such demanding adventures,
we prepared for the worst and pressed on.

In the eastern plains of Karana, we traveled through a rough terrain peopled by hill giants, griffons, and several variety of wolves. To make matters worse, highwaymen and bandits lurked near the paths, attacking weary travelers. In spite of these challenges, we managed to find our way through the Karanas with only a few more cuts and bruises than we'd had from fighting scarecrows on the farm. Soon we found themselves at the entrance to Highpass Hold, a mountainous pass that provided their only passage to Kithicor Forest and thus to Rivervale, where Eoin and Odica awaited us. Though guarded by Highpass Keep guards, the pass was nevertheless one of the most dangerous parts of the journey, since its crags and overpasses offered innumerable hiding places for murderous gnolls
and orcs.

The inhabitants of the pass, in fact, seem to always be vying for control-orcs
and gnolls on the one hand, and the citizens of Highpass Keep, on the
other. We found ourselves in a situation similar to the one Bartelome
faced upon entering Blackburrow: without invisibility or a more powerful
escort, we would be at the mercy of either the powerful orcs that commanded
the southern part of the pass, or the gnolls that controlled the north.

So we did what any other fearless adventurers would do under similar
circumstances: found a safe place to hide while waiting for an escort.
Soon enough, some experienced hunters passed by, and we were able to go
with them as far as a small pottery shop to the south. There we swapped
tales with the shop owner and other travelers who were trying to make
their way through the pass. From those arriving from the south, we heard
about a tavern called "The Tiger's Roar," where we might be
able to receive letters from family and friends, or news about safe routes
through Kithicor Forest. I entertained the travelers with my repertoire
of songs and epic poetry, and was rewarded with coin, a dagger or two,
and one live chicken from a local brewer.

Finally, we met a high level group of halflings returning home. By joining
their group, we were able to make it through the pass and into Kithicor
Forest, timing our entrance into the forest so that it would occur in
mid-morning. Many a traveler had warned us of the high level and aggressive
undead creatures in the forest. Although some of these undead could also
be found in the forest by day, they came out in droves at night, along
with goblins and hostile will-o-wisps. While, in other areas, we had been
told to run for our lives along the outermost limits of the zone (the
"wall"), in this case we had only to run up a path for several
hundred yards to find the entrance to Rivervale. This we did, despite
being attacked by a wandering undead creature just as we reached the Rivervale
entrance. Halfling deputies literally had to pull us to safety and slam
the city gates against the creature.

We
had finally arrived safely in Rivervale, bruised and bloody, but alive!
Our friends Eoin and Odica Evergreen threw their arms around our knees,
weeping with joy and excitement to finally see us. Oh, the merry-making,
dancing, and singing we enjoyed in the city of hobbits! Halflings from
Misty Thicket and beyond came into the city to meet the barbarian from
far-off Halas and to be entertained by the troubadour from Qeynos. Many
a pint would be shared and tall tale told before we hoisted our backpacks
over our shoulders and set out for the second half of our trip.

Two weeks had passed in Norrath and five days in the time of humans,
and only half our journey was accomplished. More adventures lay to the
east, toward Freeport and the continent of Faydwer beyond that. Our friends
Fizzlefife and Andamar continued to wait patiently for us in their home
cities of Kaladim and Felwithe. But that, as they say, is another story.

(Editor's note: The foregoing is a true adventure, undertaken
by the members of Eliana's group. It is told from the point of view of
Eliana's avatar and is a mixture of reality and fantasy. No bunnies were
hurt in the making of this adventure.)