Within the great halls of Tauroman

"Who am I?" replied the voice in a humorous tone. "Who indeed, who else would it be? Has the land of mortals forgotten me already? Through all the dratted luck of loyalty, the great Draug is forgotten. Ah well - what can one expect living underground and studying stars?" he continued (it was the voice of a man, or a man’s voice at any rate).

"Who are you Draug?" said Portair once more, this time rather frightened as he paced around the little rock of the island. Soon, he thought he saw the shadow of a little figure huddled in a corner, but it disappeared rapidly.

"What business have you asking me questions, in my own cave?" asked the voice, rather indignantly. Portair thought a moment.

"Was it you then - that tended my wounds?"

"Indeed. Who did you expect? King Palteer?" laughed the Draug. Portair was by now getting most impatient. However, suddenly, here and there, he continued to catch passing glimpses of the shadowy figure; though they quickly disappeared. All the while though, from what Portair could make out, the Draug was actually coming closer to him, and though Portair knew he meant no harm, he was naturally quite cautious.

"I ask you one last time, with all the courtesy that I may allow mine own. What is you’re name Draug?" asked Portair, now in a fighting mood. Suddenly, the shadow quickened its pace. It seemed to be bounding from one side of the cavern to another. Soon however it disappeared. For a long moment of silence, there came no reply.

"But I am Tauroman of course," continued the voice. Portair spun around at once, his arms raised for fighting.

Before him, standing low on the rocks (it wasn’t very tall) and rather well dressed with leather sandals and jackets and gowns, stood a Draug. Draug’s mind you were the last beasts of that day that were allowed to roam to and fro between the two species of man and beast, from Shadoor to Elphlad, without being seized. This particular Draug however - Tauroman as we remember his name - was a queer looking one. He had small, stubby hind legs; perched upon the small black hooves that were his feet. Above, at waist height was his belly, a very large and fat thing, fatter than most at any rate. His arms were also rather short, not even reaching down half his stomach, and his face withered and old. The Draug looked him over a few times, an interesting look upon his face.

"Tauroman - son of the west, great traveller of old. You haven’t heard of me?" asked the Draug, the answer impending.

"No - actually, I can’t say that I have. But travelling Draug’s rings a bell---," began Portair.

"Hasn’t heard of the great Tauroman," muttered Tauroman under his breath and to himself. "I suppose none of the younger generation have. What are the scholars teaching the youths today then hmm? Has the world lost its respect for the important?" he continued, now entirely to himself.

"As much as I would like to stay and listen to your tales Tauroman, I must now leave with haste - my friend from above is in great peril," began Portair.

"Well it was inevitable you would bring up the subject. I was hoping you’d stay a little longer, and I guess you shall. But come - let us learn of Narknom’s fate," said the Draug.

"How do you know of Narknom and his perils!" exclaimed Portair at once.

"Relax friend - in time you will know much. In time you will see things to answer you’re questions. Soon you will know. But come!" said he, leading the two forward.

The island had turned out to be much more than just that. In fact, it was only the beginning of yet another large underground passage, of which Portair saw no clear end. This time however he had a guide, and by the looks of him, an experienced guide. Yet even while travelling through dark passages, and listening to the idle talk of Draug’s tale, Portair couldn’t help think of Narknom.