“"It's not natural Joseff. Minutes ago you were in agony with inside bit on your outside. I know that ain't right. Right?", Brymstone pointed out with his stubby mug-sized fingers. "Does it hurt when I do this?", painfully prodding Joseff's leg.

"Only when you do it Brym", replied Joseff. "Even Brym sees sorcery when he sees it. What is going on?", he thought.

"Well there is a possible bunch who might be able to help", interjected the clarity of their MVP, Manfred Joxxa.

"Go on"

"Well it's the Wood Elves. They have some of the best sorcerers in the Old World. Their forests aren't far from here. If they agree to help we could escort their sorcerers here and we have the best possible front, in Brymstone itself. We can then start to get to the bottom of what is happening to you and where Brymstone figures in all these absurdities that have occured recently. No Brym, not you alone I mean all of us.", he backed Brym down before he could raise his concern.


2 weeks passed in what seemed an instant. Before Manfred new where he was he was suiting up, looking across at Brym who had a big grin on his huge chops.

"I'm up against a walking tree called Hewbert tonight."

"Hmmm....yeah. Go easy on him, ok big guy. He's the one who we have to speak to"

"No sorceror?"

"When you've been around as long as those guys I guess they are in the thinking that he's seen it all before, so no sorcerer."

CRUNCH!!

The colour drained from Manfred's face to see Brym fall flat on his back to a hit from Hewbert. The medic rushed onto the pitch but gave the thumbs up and let him crawl, stumble, drag himself off the pitch.

"Brym's down already", shrieked Pursival. The newest inductee of the world of Brymstone. Hans Goit stayed close to him to calm him.

"Goit really does have a protective streak", he thought.

As Brym finally left the treatment room the 2nd half was well underway. The pain to the top of his head already subsiding he could make out that the giant scoreboard showed the match to be still 0-0 towards the death. As he followed the game the ball got lost in a sprawling brawl, taking up the remnants of both teams, with the ball flittering between the Wardance Bowie and Hans Goit until he saw a rather startled Fyre sprint from the ruck to make the difference.

The crowd roared, the team roared and Brym roared with delight. The team erupted onto the pitch to congratulate the still, startled to see the ball, Fyre.

"He's back, although he does look a little weedier", Brym grinned.


Later that night, they met with the Highland Strutters and the wise old oak.

Hewbert took a long look at Fyre, after the recent happenings had been accounted for and wheezed like the rustling of leaves.

"Well little sapling. You are in a pickle. It would appear you are the unfortunate receipient of a curse, atleast to a human. You will watch all those around you die but you will not. We Entfolk are used to the years but you are not. I would seek the company of elves and leave your friends for you will feel the pain all around you. I doubt if the Witch Elf is anything more than a hired blade."

Joseff didn't answer but he felt differently.

"There is also something else afoot. Something you have not told me or are unaware of. I would suggest you find that out from your own paymasters. Do not say anything more as I feel it may be a lie. I have told you what I know about the curse as for the reasons why, I feel you will find those out in time. Farewell and well played to you".

Manfred pulled Charon to him,"Get the Home Guard to look into any recently departed caravans, heading north. For some reason I don't think the elf would have left immediately. She may have left some clues. It's not in a Witch Elfs' nature to worry about anonymity. Also check for any bloody deaths since the Legion XV debacle."

"You're a smart guy Manfred"

"My head is big enough, it doesn't need anymore help", he grinned back.”