Kirby tensed... the screaming wouldn't stop! He almost reached for his sword, only to remember at the last moment that it was no longer at his side. A startled hiss caught in his throat, he sighed instead, defeated.

"Can't you do something about that?!"

Kirby's yell of help was answered by a tall, athletic woman with chestnut hair carrying in a little boy under her arm, and promptly dropping him in Kirby's lap.

"He's your kid too, buster. Why don't you try entertaining him?"

Kirby looked up at his wife, Alida. While she hadn't been a blacksmith in years, she still held her muscular form, and that menacing scowl she inherited from her father. Kirby knew when to keep his mouth shut. She turned back to the kitchen, where Kirby could smell the lobster dinner beginning to cook. Fresh seafood was an advantage of living in Boston. Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to let him play in here. The floor was already littered with a few Hot Wheels, crayons, and an abundance of large cat toys.

"WHAT'S THAT?" Allen pointed to a strange item in the shape of an oversized cat paw, mounted on the wall of Kirby's study alongside his hip-absent sword. Kirby looked at his little boy, and then glanced at the pile of papers to grade before him. In comparison, reminiscing and telling stories to his boy was a much friendlier idea. Even if he had heard them a million times already.

"You know what those are. That's what daddy used when he was a ..."

"RANGER!" Allen gladly filled in the blank.

"Yeah... when daddy only had to worry about orcs, undead, the world ending... and not undergrad's term papers." Kirby settled on the floor next to Allen before a large display of books and curios from Kirby's former occupation. Let's see... orc's tooth dagger, Athelas Root, sign marker for Hart's cabin... ah, there we go. He pulled out a large leather bound book, and in flipping through it, came across many images of past friends.

"What's a ranger?"

"Well, that was kind of a generic name for what I did. See that?" Kirby pointed to a large glass case, wherein his Longbow was on display, with a spread of bright red arrows behind it.

"A ranger uses that as his main weapon. While a few others can use it, nobody is as good at it as a Ranger. We can put our own special abilities and magic on the arrows, shoot farther, and with a lot more accuracy."

"Then why do you have those?" Allen pointed again to the sword and strange weapon, covered in dust.

"Well, a ranger is also one of the best people you can have in a fight. We have great hand to hand abilities, second only to a Fighter. We can also use any weapon, like a Fighter. But unlike a Fighter, we can do more outside the fight for ourselves and the team."

"Mommy was a Fighter!"

"Right. So was he, your grandfather..." Kirby pointed in the yellowing book to a picture of a large, black and orange clad man, wielding a sword and shotgun, his face hidden in the shadow of a black bear headpiece. "A Fighter can't help much outside the fight, though. A ranger can gather food and water, or find a safe place for the team to hide or stay the night."

"Who's that?" Allen pointed in the book to a slim, pretty raven haired woman wearing shades of cold blues and whites. Her hands almost seemed to glow.

"Her name was Myste. She was very pretty, but as cold as ice. She was a Mage. They have all kinds of spells and abilities to use for themselves and a team, but they can't heal themselves or others like a Ranger can. And, a Ranger can use his arrows from farther than a Mage can use her spells, beating them to the punch." Thinking of magic, Kirby observed the unusual book. The images were ingrained in the pages, but almost seemed to float as well. Photography wasn't an option in that other world, but he wondered what magic could not do when coaxed properly. He pointed to the next picture, beside a page full of news reports and aged clippings.

"This is Alaric Dragonsbane. Behind him is Thorin Oakenshield"

"They have funny names!" Allen giggled.

"Yeah, it seems most Knights I met had funny names. Knights are also great in a fight, and they have a lot of things they can do outside that fight, like a Ranger. However, they can't help to conceal the team, and they can't track a trail, or a person. They also can't seem to keep out of the news..." Kirby turned past a few pages more of clippings. He came to another picture of a tall, thin man in robes, sitting before a warm garden. Kirby fought the urge to compare it to the snow on his windowsill.

"This is Brother Nathaniel. He was a Cleric, and he was very good, if not a little odd. A Cleric can also heal people, and has many damaging abilities. Again, though, he's not able to find magical herbs, or cure Red Death, only freeze it. That's the worst poison around." Kirby turned the page to show an image of a wild elf. "This was Kier. She was a Druid. They have many things that they can do based on nature, just like Rangers. In fact, they can do some of the same things. A Ranger, though, can do better in a weapon to weapon fight, and can handle better and heavier armor."

"He's bald!" Allen screeched as he pointed to the next image, a man standing with iron chains around his wrists, and short escrima sticks brandished in his hands.

"That's 'Shackles' McQuinn. He's a Monk. Gotta admit, I never quite figured them out. They have many fighting abilities, but they can't wear armor at all, and can't use as many weapons as a ranger. They also can't set pitfall traps or snares."

"Who's that?" Allen pointed to a picture of a smaller, lean man with dark hair and black leather clothes. The smug grin seemed to mock Kirby.

"Yeah, Kirb, who's that?" Alida said from the doorway, where she leaned against the doorjam. Her grin was almost as smug as the man in the picture. Kirby sighed.

"THAT... is a Thief. His name was Vanth Nightwind. A thief can also do some of the things a Ranger can do, but they do not have the abilities a ranger can work with animals, such as taming them or even adopting their attributes. They are good at stealing, though. Particularly sisters...."

Alida giggled to herself. "Yeah, well, she got away. Or rather, let him off his chain. Allen, you need to get washed up for dinner. So do you, pal. Would you feed them?" Alida pointed to Butch and Sundance, the two little Screech Owls on their perch in the study. As soon as the idea of food was brought up, Butch let out an ear piercing cry and flapped his wings. Allen shot out of the room, trying to match the owl cry and laughing loudly, as Kirby got up and again came face to face with the mountain of paperwork. He again glanced at the old book, and wondered how many of these people were still around, playing the game, embracing the magic and adventure. Perhaps it was time to take a break and go back to being a Ranger for a while...

"You need to take the Mustang into the shop tomorrow. I think I killed the battery, or some such thing", Alida called from the kitchen.

...perhaps he should go back soon...

"And your mother is coming for dinner tomorrow."

...very soon!

Kirby sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Rock'N'Roll...."