Mon Oct 17 09:32:09 PDT 2005

Here is my hypothesis, rendered into story-form:

"The Orca led his brigand friends into a small rain-ditch near the clearing. 
  Around them were strewn bones larger than a man, and this caused the Orca 
no small amount of concern.
'I wonder what fell beast eats creatures the size of that!' the Orca 
pondered, not without some anxiety.
'Sir!  Look over there!" his second-in-command whispered tensely.
The woman was pointing with a trembling finger to a skull at one end of the 
clearing.  It was big, it was cracked and old, but it was most certainly...a 
'Cracks and shards! What hunts dragons?  And what is that smell?'
There was a quick spell, concealed, but the Captain could detect and 
identify it.  It was a cleaning spell, directed to the hindquarters of one 
of his men.  At any other time, he would have been amused.
'Bring out my bag'.  The Captain's thoughts wandered to the jewel inside, a 
strange green colour, though it sometimes looked purple, that a sorceress in 
Adrilankha had assured him had the power to destroy a city, if used 
properly.  When his man brought his bag, the man quietly brought out the 
jewel, and a book he had purchased on obscure forms of sorcery.  He turned 
to the section on 'Moste Potente Artifacts' but found nothing there aside 
from some odd instructions that required one to count to three.
'Verra take it anyway.'  The Captain put both book and jewel back in the bag 
in disgust. 'Okay, Rander, you go explore.  Carefully.'
'Yes sir.'  The man left to explore with a brave look on his face that did 
nothing to conceal his fear or stupidity.
The Athyra next to the Captain started going into one of his spells.  He 
warned that the man was as good as dead, but half of what the Athyra said 
was crazy or non-sensical anyway, so the Captain discarded it.  Until the 
man exploring the clearing stood up as something small and white bolted 
through the air at him, and cleanly removed his head.
The Captain caught the last sentence of the Athyra's ravings. 'Look at the 
'Damn Fenario anyway,' the Captain said in fear.
He gave the order to advance.  The men obeyed, and it wasn't long before the 
white streak came out and started killing them as they moved to the attack.  
The man immediately right of the Captain went down, and the Captain was able 
to glance the white streak as it slowed down at the man's neck.  There was a 
glint of silver, round, small, and, impossibly, engraved.  It said 'Huga,' 
whatever that meant."  (Jon's _Pararectal Wisdom_, pp.107-108)