A Bard's Tale

Chapter 10: The Chase

20 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, acrobatics, artificer, athletics, bard, bargain, blog, bluff, boulder, boulders, bridge, campaign, celebrate, celim, changeling, chapter, chase, d&d, d20, date rape, dinner, diplomacy, dnd, drug, dungeons and dragons, eavesdrop, eavesdropping, elf, event, fall, fantasy, gnome, hire, ice, inn, intimidate, introduction, loot, nature, novel, poison, politics, quest, river, role playing game, skill challenge, song of the bard, sorcerer, spy, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, tavern, tiefling, warforged, waterfall, winter

The evening’s sobering chill slammed into the bard as she ran out onto the street. She rubbed at her face with the back of her arm, trying to clear her vision and shake her grogginess. Not many people were roaming the roads of Larkenvale at this late hour, so it only took a moment to track the pitter patter of running feet. As soon as she could discern a direction, Lyriel took off at a full run after her quarry, still carrying the staff she had stolen from the inn.

No sooner had she run off, than Remgull burst out of the inn. His gaze followed Lyriel and soon landed on the spy she was following. The young man seemed to be headed for the bridge over the river. The artificer’s legs were longer than Lyriel’s and with a burst of athletic speed, he overtook her and matched the young man stride for stride. He got just close enough to snatch at the back of his leather vest, but stumbled over a loose cobblestone at the last second and fell a few paces behind.

Lyriel’s head was almost clear now that the adrenaline was pumping through her. The fresh air cleared her mind of the drug she’d imbibed with every passing breath. She grabbed one end of the stolen staff with both hands and went into a full sprint. As she got closer to the spy, she drove the end of the staff into the ground and vaulted herself through the air. Once airborne, she used her momentum to do a flip back onto the ground, landing just a few paces behind the young man who had just reached the bridge.

Instead of heading across the bridge, the man continued on down towards the riverbank. The water was moving so quickly here that it was not frozen over despite the winter weather. As they got closer, Lyriel could hear the icy river rushing quickly under the bridge. Below the bridge, she could see a few slick boulders and large rocks that stuck up out of the water.

The gnome immediately realized what he planned to do. He was going to try to cross the river on the rocks in hopes she would lose her balance and get swept away by the current.

“Go low! I’ll take the bridge and cut him off at the other side,” Remgull called after the gnome as she followed him down on to the bank.

Lyriel caught up with the spy just as he leapt onto the first boulder and began balancing his way across the river. She shivered at the thought of falling in, yet she had no other option but to pursue him. As she followed him, she began considering what she would do once she actually got to him. The gnome knew she couldn’t grapple him. His forward momentum would easily overpower her based on her weight alone. Her best bet was to knock him down as he reached the other side of the river and hope that Remgull would be there to grab him.

Lyriel sprang onto the first boulder and pushed herself onto the next. She was nearly half way across and there was just one rock separating her from the spy. She kept this spacing as they moved across the rocks, breathing methodically and rhythmically. As the young man reached the other side, she doubled her stride to catch up and jump on his back, but as she pushed up off of the last rock, her foot slipped and instead of tackling him straight on, she caught his right side and sent him spinning off balance into the river as she collapsed safely onto the bank.

The young man yelped in terror as he went flying into the freezing water with a great splash. The current swiftly bore him away from them as Remgull jumped down onto the riverbank next to Lyriel.

“Where is he?” The construct asked.

Lyriel didn’t stop to answer him. Covered in snow and mud from where she’d fallen, the gnome scrambled up onto her feet and went running down the side of the river. Remgull could just make out the man as he bobbed up and down in the water, trying to keep his head exposed and swim to the shore.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Remgull grumbled as he took off after the bard.

By now, Bianca’s eyes had opened and she was thankful to find that she had kept her grasp on her form and not turned back into a changeling. Elarin pointed her in the direction her companions had gone and she ran after them. When she arrived at the river, she could just make out Lyriel’s tiny body streaked with mud as she ran down the opposite bank after something indiscernible that was floating in the water. Remgull had just about caught up to her at the river’s widest point. It was easily 150 feet across and churning violently. Bianca hitched up her gown and ran over the bridge, pursuing them as fast as she could.

By the time the sorceress met up with her companions, Lyriel was slumped over in the snow and out of breath, waving for them to stop.

“Too late,” she gasped. “The water’s moving too quickly. We’ll never reach him.” She nodded breathlessly to Bianca. “Glad to see you decided to join us,” she jested.

Remgull pointed further down the river where the water was parted by a thickly wooded island and then suddenly dropped off into nothing on either side. “We may not have to worry. Looks like he has a one way trip over the falls.”

Bianca gazed out over the river. “Excellent. Let nature finish the job.” She chuckled confidently, but then suddenly her eyes shot wide open.

Lyriel squinted and sure enough she realized what had Bianca so worried. The bastard was using the last dregs of his strength to swim towards the island. No doubt he had seen the waterfall as well and was doing his best to avoid it.

“Fairy farts! He making for the island!” Bianca pointed wildly.

Remgull thrashed from side to side, looking up and down the river for some sort of boat to bear them across.

Lyriel chewed on her lip. She was starring into space in Remgull’s direction until she realized she was looking at Remgull’s satchel. Coiled around the strap was a long piece of rope. She grabbed it and began tying it around her waist, followed by Remgull’s and Bianca’s. She spanked them each on the rump as she finished and began dragging them forward along the bank. “Quick, to the top of the falls! Stones and brambles tend to run against each other and gather there. We can brace ourselves on the built up material and use each other to keep our balance. If we’re careful we can make it across before he can get away.”

They wasted no time arguing and ran forward as a group. They could still see their prey making for the bushy shore as they reached the top of the falls. Lyriel went first because she was the lightest and if she fell, they could easily pull her up.

The gnome tried not to look over the edge at the violent water below. It had to be at least a fifty foot drop. The water was moving with such force at the bottom that it created a white mist so thick that Lyriel couldn’t even tell if there might be sharp rocks at the bottom. However, the mystery only made it worse as she tried not to think about the plethora of gory options for the types of bodily harm that might await her if she fell.

Remgull went next, wedging his metal plated feet under the rocks and branches that were interlocked at the top of the falls. Bianca followed, hissing uncomfortably as the cold water ran against her and billowed her skirt.

They moved one step at a time, deciding that in the end, a slow and steady pace would be far more successful than any hasty rash movements.

“He’s reaching the bank!” Lyriel reported, keeping an eye on their prey.

“I can’t feel my legs!” Bianca complained as she faltered and nearly toppled over the falls.

“Steady, woman!” Remgull grabbed her and held her in place till she had gotten her footing.

“He doesn’t look like he has much left in him.” From what Lyriel could tell, the spy had dragged himself up onto the island and was visibly shivering. He was feebly trying to pull himself into the cover of the underbrush.

They were over halfway there. Bianca closed her eyes and golden light radiated from her. The water around them warmed to a more tolerable temperature.

“Tell me you didn’t just soil yourself in order to get warm.” Remgull groaned.

“Please, I’m a lady!” Bianca snapped.

“Almost there. Almost-” Lyriel stuck her tongue in the corner of her mouth, deep in concentration, and took another calculated step forward.

The rock she chose turned out not to be a rock at all. It was a collection of bunched up leaves that slipped out from under her foot as soon as she stepped down. Lyriel flailed and went crashing face first into the water. The forceful current easily swept her over the side of the falls and she dangled there from the rope attached to Remgull.

Remgull staunchly dug his heals into the riverbed and grabbed onto two nearby rocks. “Get my knife! I’m cutting the rope!”

“I’m too small to die!” Lyriel burbled trough the torrent of water dumping down on her.

“Remgull, no!” Bianca leaned back against the rope that was tied around her. “Pull her up, damn it! He’s going to get away.” She glanced at the island. The spy had now disappeared into the trees and was nowhere to be seen.

“Knife!” demanded Remgull.

“No!” Bianca tugged on the rope, trying to pull him backwards and in turn drag Lyriel back on top of the falls. Unfortunately, she only succeeded in pulling the warforged off balance.

Remgull splashed onto his back and the rushing river took him over the edge, dragging Bianca roughly behind him.

All three of them careened off the edge of the waterfall and fell down into the churning icy mists below.

Chapter 9: A Business Proposition

19 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, ale, artificer, bard, bargain, blog, bluff, campaign, celebrate, celim, changeling, chapter, chase, coup, d&d, d20, date rape, dinner, diplomacy, dnd, drug, dungeons and dragons, eavesdrop, eavesdropping, elf, event, fantasy, flagon, gnome, hire, horns, inn, intimidate, introduction, loot, novel, poison, politics, proposition, quest, role playing game, skill challenge, song of the bard, sorcerer, spy, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, tavern, the dark ones, tiefling, warforged

Lyriel, Remgull, and Bianca hurried back to The Noble Cutpurse through the darkening streets of Larkenvale. When they arrived, they found Elarin waiting for them.

“That tiefling is here to see you.” Elarin motioned to the dining room behind him and they could clearly recognize Celim’s twisted horns. He was seated at a large table with four place settings and large wine goblets. “It appears he’s prepared to make quite the impression.”

Bianca tossed her dark curls and immediately walked towards the table. Lyriel looked at Remgull nervously and they followed behind her. Celim had chosen a table on the far side of the room. It was removed from the other patrons who were eating and drinking in the area and relatively private.

“A man who keeps his dinner dates. What a welcome change,” Bianca purred as Celim rose to pull out her chair. She sat down and placed her napkin in her lap.

Lyriel waited for Remgull to pull out her chair, but he did not.

The gnome muttered to herself about chivalry being dead as she scrambled up into the high seat. Her head just barely stood above the table so she called the waiter over to fetch her a pillow. “Celim, we are grateful for your hospitality and ready to hear you out.” The waiter returned with a pillow and helped Lyriel climb on top of it.

Celim sat down. “It is my pleasure. Waiter, fetch us four plates of the lamb stew and some mulled hard cider as well.” The waiter nodded and disappeared behind the bar and into the kitchen. “Now on to the matter at hand. The people of Larkenvale are very set in their opinions of our Lord Reagent, Farin Kylar.”

Bianca shrugged. “And is that such a bad thing?”

Celim leaned forward and looked between them. “That depends greatly on whether I share the opinion of the people here, doesn’t it?” The tiefling held up his glass to be filled as the waiter returned with cider.

Another server arrived with the lamb stew and set dishes in front of them. Remgull simply starred at his with disappointment as he never required food. On the other hand, Lyriel and Bianca dug in right away, famished from their journey to the city and their active day in town.

Celim went on. “Most citizens of Larkenvale support Kylar simply because his ancestors helped to win The Great War. His reputation is but that of his forefathers and nothing more. Kylar is not a terrible man by any stretch of the word, but his policies… To put it bluntly, they are lacking.”

The gnome gesticulated with her spoon. “I take it you find fault with the status quo?”

Celim coughed. “Kylar is resting on his laurels. He inherited the thrown by blood and not through merit. He has done nothing to advance Larkenvale and in this, he has let us fall behind. We could be a pillar of civilization.”

Remgull laughed so hard his metal casings vibrated in their wooden settings. “Let’s not beat around the bush. You think you’d do a better job.”

Celim sipped his cider and took his time placing the goblet back on the table. “In a word, yes.”

Lyriel frowned. “No offense, but you haven’t given us any real reason to doubt Lord Kylar’s ability to run Larkenvale, nor have you offered any of your own merits. Why should we help you assume rulership of the city?”

The tiefling nodded. “You make a fair point, young bard. I was once the crowned prince of my own people. Unfortunately after my father’s death, my brother, Terim, thought himself more worthy of the crown. He began spreading rumors that I kept bad company and that I was unfit to rule. When he gained enough support, he staged a coup and stole the throne from me. I was exiled thereafter and abandoned to make my own way with nothing. I spent my life being groomed for a life in politics. I was schooled in diplomacy, the arts, and combat. I have the skills to build a city whose name will resound in the annals of time even after I am gone. All of that potential was squandered and now I see an opportunity to reclaim it and do some good here.”

“That sounds noble enough.” Bianca reached out and touched his hand.

Lyriel coughed and the sorceress withdrew, smiling to herself.

“I am sorry for the betrayal of your brother, Celim, but besides being a bit lazy, what has Farin done that makes him unfit to rule Larkenvale?” Lyriel asked.

“My dear, sloth is its own crime. There are laws in place here that do more harm than good and no one has done anything to change them for years. Take the farmers for example. Larkenvale’s farmers may only sell their produce at thirty percent of its worth. This is supposed to encourage traveling merchants to buy all of their goods from Larkenvale and it ensures that they can always afford to offer the best deals wherever they go. It’s a law that has given us a great trade reputation abroad, but it penalizes the farmers who are the backbone of this city. They can barely make a living.”

Remgull shrugged. “Easy. Change the law.”

Celim held up a finger. “Yes! One would think so. However Lord Kylar refuses to change the law because it would dishonor the memory of his great grandfather who made it. He’ll do anything to dredge up the past and cling to it, even if that means his people suffer.”

Bianca checked her reflection in her spoon. “Surely Kylar can change laws if they don’t benefit the people.”

“I’m sure he can, dear, but whether he will remains to be seen. If I were on the throne, things would be accomplished and suffering people wouldn’t be left to rot-” Celim was interrupted by the scoffing bard.

“You could even raise an army here and return home to reclaim your throne. Wouldn’t that be dandy?” Lyriel leaned back in her chair. “I’d wager that’d be the most enticing reason to take control of Larkenvale.”

“Lyriel…” Bianca shot her a disdainful look.

The gnome put up her hands defensively. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate. Just as Lord Kylar is being called into question, Celim would be as well if he were to rise to power.”

“As much as I would love to give my brother a swift kick in the arse, I’ve moved on to bigger and better things. That period of my life is over and I’d like to know if you all would help me write a new chapter.” He raised his glass and winked at Lyriel.

“You, yourself, have said that the people support Kylar,” retorted Lyriel. “Why would they accept your rule?”

“They support Kylar because they do not know they have a better option. How can you think me dishonest? If I were a tyrant, I wouldn’t care about changing laws to improve the quality of life for my citizens,” Celim stated.

“You have to admit,” Bianca said. “Celim has no specific hate for Lord Kylar- only his policies, or lack thereof.”

The gnome drummed her fingers on the table, deep in thought. “Before we agree to help you, I think we need to look into this matter ourselves. Give us some time to explore Larkenvale on our own and assess public opinion.”

Celim pursed his lips and then nodded. “I suppose that is acceptable, but I will not wait forever. Know that should you choose to help me with this venture, you will be handsomely rewarded.”

Remgull pounded his fist on the table emphatically. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

Celim wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on the table. “Once you have made your decision, talk to Elarin. He’ll know where to find me.” He stood up, bowed to them respectfully, and tossed a small sack of coins next to his dinner plate. “For your silence concerning this matter. Farewell.” With that, he stalked out of the dining room.

Lyriel began shoveling lamb stew into her mouth and Bianca thoughtfully played with what was left of hers.

“Let’s go to our room so we can speak freely.” Bianca decided and set her spoon down before glancing askance at the other patrons who were dining at the surrounding tables.

Remgull got to his feet, grabbing the sack of coins, and Lyriel quickly slid off of her seat and followed after Bianca who lead the way.. They fetched their keys from Elarin and headed up the rickety stairs to their rooms. After assessing them, Lyriel and Bianca chose the larger of the two and left Remgull with the smaller because he didn’t seem to care much either way. They quickly slipped into the larger room and shut the door behind them.

Remgull sat himself down on a wooden chair by the window and Lyriel climbed up onto the bed and sat with her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. Bianca paced the floor between them.

“What harm would it do if we helped him? We need a patron. We have no connection to the people here. Who cares about Kylar? We already know Celim has enough coin to keep us comfortably employed.”

Lyriel frowned, biting down on the side of her thumb. “Personally, I find something a bit off about him. Celim, Telim… Those aren’t the kind of names tieflings tend to choose. They prefer ideas or concepts. Like the shopkeeper earlier. ‘Opulence.’ Now that’s a tiefling name. Plus, Celim never mentioned where he was from exactly. Comfort is one thing, but I don’t want to be in the pocket of someone I don’t trust.”

“I don’t care who we work for as long as it pays well. If he gets control of Larkenvale, it could mean a huge payday for us,” Remgull said.

“What exactly does he want us to do?” Lyriel asked. “If he just wants us to spread the word about his intentions and get people on his side, that’s one thing, but if he only wanted that, then he wouldn’t have paid us to keep our mouths shut. I smell a rat.”

“The guy does seem have a ton of money to throw around.” Remgull rhythmically patted his metal thigh plates with his wooden digits. “I like him,” he decided.

“He’s not the only person in the world with money.” Lyriel sighed and looked out the window. From where she was sitting, she could just make out the moonlit castle atop the rocky acropolis. “If we make a name for ourselves here, we could end up working for the Lord Kylar, himself. I’m sure he has more money than even Celim could dream of.”

Remgull’s mouth slammed shut and the hinges squeaked as tightened his jaw.

Bianca rolled her eyes. “What is it now?”

“Why is the tiny one never a fan of getting rich quick?” He whined petulantly.

Lyriel jumped off of the bed and placed her hands indignantly on her hips. “Listen, we don’t know what Celim wants us to do. He wants to steal the throne, sure. For all we know, he may want us to kill innocent people in order to get it.”

There was a loud scuffle at the door and the three of them snapped their heads in the direction of the sound.

“Someone’s at the door,” Bianca whispered sharply.

Remgull got up immediately and opened it.

When he got there, he saw a young man in a black leather vest swiftly walking down the hallway towards the stairs.

“Can I help you?” Remgull’s voice boomed after him but the man did not stop. In fact, he picked up his pace.

Remgull took a few hurried strides down the hall and grabbed him by the scruff of his collar. “I said, can I help you?”

The young man shook himself free of the warforged and backed up into the wall. “My apologies. I seem to have forgotten which room I was assigned to.”

Remgull’s jeweled eyes flared and he pounded his fist into the wall next to the man’s head. “I’ll help you find it.”

By now, Bianca and Lyriel had joined them in the hallway.

The man stammered. “Actually, I’ve just decided I’m not quite ready for bed and I’m going to have a drink downstairs.”

Lyriell walked towards him, cutting off another path of escape. “Why didn’t you say so? We’ll join you!” She clapped him on the shoulder.

“Um-” The man slipped around Lyriel.

Bianca stepped into his way. “That sounds splendid, Lyriel. Let’s do that.”

Remgull dragged the stranger downstairs into the bar with Bianca and Lyriel flanking him on either side.

By the time they reached the dining area, the man had stopped stammering. They found a table and sat down.

“As a token of my apologies, I’ll buy the first round,” the man offered.

Lyriel nodded. “Sounds good to me.” She swung her lyre around from her back and began plucking at the strings. Her eyes were trained carefully on him as he walked towards the bar. “Don’t let him out of your sight,” she warned the others.

Remgull remained standing until the man returned to the table with four glasses of ale. The warforged stood behind him while he passed out the drinks. Of course, the construct waved his hand to decline on the part of himself, but Bianca was more than happy to accept the extra pint of ale.

The man sat down and smiled. “There. Let bygones be bygones.” He toasted them.

Lyriel raised her glass and took a sip before returning to strumming her lyre. “So, what were you really doing outside of our room, eh?”

The man shrugged. “I told you. I accidentally went to the wrong room.” He tapped his forefinger on the table, looking expectantly between the human and the elf.

Bianca laughed huskily as she nursed her ale, taking a few gulps. “Please. You were eavesdropping. Surely you don’t think us fools?”

“I do, actually. A bit, yeah.” He smiled mischievously and slid to the edge of his seat, starring her down.

“Huh?” Bianca sat back in her chair. For some reason it was becoming hard to keep her eyes open. She could barely feel her fingertips as she lifted her mug to her lips.

Lyriel looked at the sorceress quizzically. Her own head was feeling very heavy and her eyelids were getting droopy. Suddenly the realization hit her and she clumsily lashed her arm out to knock over the other mugs on the table. “He did zomething to us. The drinksh,” she slurred. “Geddim!”

Suddenly, Bianca fell unconscious and slipped out of her chair. When Remgull moved to catch her, the man leapt out of his seat and sprinted for the exit.

Lyriel managed to stumble out of her chair and go limping after him as fast as she could. As she passed the coat rack beside Elarin’s desk, she grabbed a simple wooden staff someone had left behind and went running out into the moonlit streets after her prey.

By the time Remgull had propped Bianca up in her chair, Lyriel and the spy had disappeared into the night.

Chapter 8: Residium and Religion

17 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, bard, bargain, blog, campaign, celebrate, changeling, chapter, d&d, d20, diplomacy, dnd, drowning, dungeons and dragons, elf, erathis, event, faith, fantasy, gnome, guards, guardsman, inn, intimidate, introduction, kobold, kobolds, loot, magic, mercenaries, novel, politics, quest, raiders, religion, residium, ritual, role playing game, Sahenine, skill challenge, song of the bard, sorcerer, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, tavern, temple, the dark ones, tiefling, warforged, wintercrown

Remgull led the charge to the magic shop with Lyriel and Bianca following behind. He was so close to skipping that they were almost sure his brain had been replaced with that of a young boy’s.

As they approached the shop, they could see items glittering and glowing in the windows. Bianca’s eyes were a big as saucers when they stopped outside to look at the merchandise on display. Lyriel had to stand on her tip toes in order to see into the shop, but her eyes widened when they fell upon all of the staffs, implements, and orbs inside.

Remgull wasted no time in opening the door and heading straight to the rods and enchanted vials. Bianca sauntered in after him and began examining the staffs. She twisted them in her hands, trying each one in turn.

Lyriel walked up to the counter and discovered a small silver bell. She tapped it and as soon as it rang, a tiefling in lavender robes threw open the crimson curtains behind the counter and held up his arms.

“Welcome to Magical for the Multitudes! I’m Opulence. How can I help you today?” The tiefling leaned forward and looked down at the gnome, but was distracted by Remgull who was attempting to dismantle one of the mechanical magic wands he was handling. “Please don’t touch the merchandise!” He glanced at Bianca who was twirling a pink enchanted staff and modeling it in front of a full length mirror. “You too.”

Bianca and Remgull exchanged looks and joined Lyriel at the counter.

“How much for one of your staves?” Bianca asked.

Opulence laughed quietly. “From the looks of you, I doubt you could afford my wares.”

Bianca stiffened. “How much?”

“How much do you have?” Opulence arched a brow, waiting for her reply.

Bianca opened her coin purse and counted its contents. “Ninety gold pieces.”

Opulence stifled another laugh. “Well, unfortunately that wouldn’t be enough to purchase anything in the store aside from a few potions I have laying about in back.” His eyes lingered on her and he motioned to the dagger she had hanging from her belt. “But if you have a fighting spirit, we might be able to make a deal.” As he spoke, he reached up and ran his forefingers along his horns which extended straight up from his brow line. It was an odd gesture but somehow Lyriel understood it as a sign of condescension.

“What kind of deal are we talking about?” Lyriel asked, placing her hands on her hips.

Opulence retrieved a large scroll from behind the counter and unrolled it. It was a map. “As you can see, Larkenvale is here.” He pointed to a gold star on the map and then traced his finger along a long road. “This road runs north along forested areas, swamps, and bogs and it’s the only way to get to Wintercrown. Here.” He jabbed his finger at another gold star of equal size. “My cousin has another shop there and he’s been awaiting a shipment of high quality goods from me for a long time. The terrain isn’t so bad, but the two day’s journey is rife dangers.”

Bianca folded her arms defensively. “Let’s get specific.”

The tiefling’s gaze became shifty and nervous. “There are terrible creatures lurking along the journey, not to mention thieves, kobolds, and raiders. We’ve lost a few shipments already and we can’t afford to lose anymore. I’m looking to hire someone to protect our merchandise on the journey. In return, I’d be willing to give you your choice of a few select items from the shop and in addition you would receive a small stipend of gold upon delivery in Wintercrown.”

Bianca put her coin purse away and shrugged. “We just got here. I’m not sure we’re ready to go galavanting off into untold dangers.”

Opulence sighed. “Well if you don’t feel you can handle the work…”

Remgull leaned against the counter. “Oh, we can handle it. We have other business in town. When it’s done, you can consider your job done as well.”

Opulence offered a winning smile. “Excellent. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll load up a cart for you post haste.”

The three comrades exchanged looks and then exited the shop. As soon as they were a few paces away, Remgull pulled the bard and the sorceress into a dark alleyway and pushed them against the wall.

“So here’s the plan.” The construct motioned to Lyriel. “Cause I know how much you love plans.”

Lyriel rolled her eyes and waited for him to continue.

“We take this guy’s job. Once we’re clear of town, we’ll disenchant everything in the cart and head for greener pastures. We’ll be rich!”

Bianca rubbed her temples. “I hear you say rich, but you don’t say how.”

The warforged waved his arms about in frustration, his wooden joints creaking and squeaking wildly. “I just told you! Are you stupid or something? I’ll disenchant all of the magical items and reduce them down to their most valuable component, residium! Not only will we be able to sell the residium, but I can use it create and enchant items crafted specifically for our own tastes and needs.”

Lyriel frowned. “I like the residium and the crafting part of that plan, but I’m not sure we should aim to ruin our reputation on the very first job we take in Larkenvale.”

Remgull sulked and folded his arms, his voice echoing low in his metal gut. “You and your dumb reputation.”

Bianca put her hands on their shoulders and stepped in between them. “Now look, Remgull. I can admire your strategy, but I’m going to side with Lyriel here. We haven’t done any of the things we set out to do here yet. We should visit the Temple of Sahenine and have dinner with Celim before we choose to travel the path of common criminals.”

Remgull’s gears clicked and cranked inside of him wordlessly for a moment and then he nodded. “Fine. First that other stuff, then residium.”

Bianca sighed. “Deal.”

They looked to Lyriel.

“I’ll take that plan under advisement.” Lyriel began to walk out of the alley. “Come on, we have just enough time to visit the temple before dinner with Celim.”

The streets of Larkenvale were less populated then they’d been in the morning. It was no longer actively snowing and a small group of the town guard were moving amongst the street lamps and lighting each one with long torches. Lyriel lead Remgull and Bianca through the streets by following signs posted at every corner, though she had to get the warforged to dust the snow off of a few of them because she wasn’t tall enough to reach them herself.

After a few twists and turns, they arrived at a giant square. It was about five blocks wide on every side. There was a large sign on each corner that read Pantheon Square and in the center of it there was a series of temples dedicated to several different gods.

Bianca immediately spotted the Temple to Sahenine as evidenced by a tall tower with an observation deck atop it. It had a large silver half moon facing downward above a large white orb painted on the domed ceiling. Lyriel was just about to follow her towards it when she noticed that Remgull had stopped moving. He was starring up up at the temple directly on their left.

“What is it?” The gnome asked.

“Erathis.” He pointed and the others followed his gaze.

The whole temple was formed out of metal that was held together by large iron bolts. There were moving mechanical parts on the door that glowed with green arcane energy. Gears and pulleys seemed to be at work all over the temple’s outer walls, though their purpose was unclear. Above the door there was a blue large half gear with an inset half sun pattern. It was pounded into the metal in relief.

The bard scratched her head. “Erathis. The patron goddess of civilization and invention, if my memory serves me. I’m guessing that’s her temple?”

The warforged immediately started walking towards the temple. “Go on without me. I’ll meet you at the other temple later.”

“But our destiny awaits us! What about the prophecy?” Lyriel protested.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll fill me in later.” Remgull disappeared into the clockwork temple, leaving Lyriel and Bianca to continue without him.

When Remgull stepped inside the temple, he found that the priests and priestesses inside were all buzzing about the building attending to different projects. He recognized a few artificers working in an alcove to imbue a small metal scrap spider with an arcane life force. In a side room, there were scholars pouring over books and scrolls. He could just make out a vehement conversation between two of them. The bits and pieces he caught led him to believe it was about the philosophical disadvantages of involving religion in politics.

The pews in the main chapel were made of dark iron and a human priestess was kneeling next to one of them hard at work. She wore gold goggles with green lenses, a black smock, and a pair of thick leather gloves. She was using a magical torch to heat the metal red hot. She was also using a small hammer to pound it into shape.

When the priestess saw him approaching, she quickly set aside her tools and pushed her goggles up onto her forehead. It held her short brown hair away from her face, which was smeared with grease. “A warforged in the Temple of Erathis! I never thought I’d live to see a day so blessed!”

Remgull stopped in front of her and bowed his head awkwardly. If there was one thing he could respect, it was purveyors and worshipers of industry and invention. “I am Remgull Milner.”

“Well Remgull Milner, I’m Priestess Caroline Claffey. What can I do for you?” Without an answer, she immediately set about looking him over. She lifted his arms and rotated them to see how his wooden joints functioned.

Remgull suddenly found himself stumbling over words. “I recently lost my memory. I don’t know why I was built or where I come from, what I was used for. I know I may have been an instrument of war in ancient battles but I have no idea who or what I am now. When I saw the symbol of Erathis outside, it called to me. My presence here is… inevitable. As is my faith in the great works of the goddess.” As Remgull spoke, he suddenly knew these things to be true, as if an unseen force was placing a missing piece into the jumbled jigsaw puzzle of his mind.

The priestess looked concerned. Her hazel eyes met the glowing red jewels in his head and she smiled. “Perhaps a piece of the goddess lives inside you. You are, after all, a product of invention, a child in her eyes. There is comfort in that, at the very least.” Suddenly a realization flickered in her eyes and she put up a hand. “Stay here. I shall return.”

With that, she went running towards the area where the scholars had been studying. Remgull took a seat on a nearby pew and busied himself with observing the other activities within the temple until she returned.

Caroline knelt beside him and offered him a scroll and a small leather pouch. “You are lost in this world, my brother, but perhaps this scroll will help you to find your way. If you study it, you will find instructions for a ritual that will help you navigate difficult choices and find the most profitable paths in your life. The materials needed for the recipe are expensive, but I have included enough for one use in this pouch.”

Remgull took the gifts from her and she leaned forward and kissed him on his rounded metal forehead.

“May Erathis guide you home, brother.” The priestess made a holy symbol in the air with her finger and then pulled her goggles down over her eyes again.

Remgull slipped the gifts into his satchel and began his short journey to the Temple of Sahenine.

Bianca and Lyriel had arrived at the temple and found it empty for the most part. The building was made of stone and had huge vaulted ceilings. There were half moon stained glass windows in the ceiling that cast colorful light down onto the floor. The ceiling itself was painted midnight blue and depicted a map of the night sky. All of the stars were painted in gold. Beside the altar, there was a spiral staircase that one could assume lead up to the observatory at the top of the building. Along the outside of the chapel, there were smaller rooms with kneeling benches in front of silver statues in the likeness of Sahenine.

As they walked through the main room, Lyriel caught sight of one of these smaller worship areas and excused herself to one of them. Bianca was left wandering the pews and just as she approached the spiral staircase, a blue robed priest entered the area carrying a white candle.

“Good day, moonchild.” He bowed his head respectfully and Bianca did the same.

“Good day, father.” Bianca looked at him briefly, but quickly returned to craning her neck back and taking in the impressive ceiling.

“I take it you are new to this temple.” The priest let out a good natured chuckle.

“What gave me away?” She smiled at him, blushing a little.

“The new ones spend the most time looking up.” He pointed at the ceiling.

It was Bianca’s turn to laugh. “I couldn’t help myself. It’s just so beautiful.”

The priest lit a nearby candle. “Never lose that sense of wonder. The people who stop looking up are the ones who miss the details.”

They both paused as Lyriel’s mutterings from one of the side rooms began to float out into the chapel.

Lyriel was kneeling in front of one of the silver statues of Sahenine. Here, the goddess was depicted as a tall elf with long flowing curls and wearing a beautiful robe that hugged her lithe figure. She was seated inside the curve of a half moon and looking down at Lyriel on the bench. The gnome had folded her hands in prayer and shut her eyes tightly.

“Goddess please, I beg of you. How am I to finish this tale? To lead these people to our fate? Send me a message, a sign?” She opened her eyes and looked up at the statue, but found no reply.

A voice spoke behind her. “You pray fiercely. What troubles you?”

Lyriel turned to see the priest watching her from the arched door. Bianca visible behing him, wandering the chapel. “Father, Sahenine sent me a dream that upon waking, has left me with a sacred charge.”

“You are lucky to have received such a gift from the goddess. Tell me your dream, moonchild.” The priest asked and began lighting the candles around the room.

The bard proceeded to recount her dream to the priest and the tale of how she came to be in the company of Bianca and Remgull. Of course, she made some necessary adjustments to the part where Bianca was Opaline and Opaline was a Changeling. “I know that we found each other for a reason, but I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do. I feel it’s my calling, nay, my duty to see this through and get us on the right path.”

The priest nodded thoughtfully. “And what do you feel this path is?”

Lyriel swallowed hard. “We were helping a nearby town deal with their gnoll problem and when we had finished our battle victorious, we discovered that these creatures were harboring artifacts and arms bearing the symbol of The Dark Ones.”

The priest’s eyes shot wide open. “That is very troubling indeed.” He began wringing his hands.

Lyriel nodded. “I have very little information on The Dark Ones and The Great War. People don’t seem to talk about any of it much.”

“You must understand, little one. The terror and the hopelessness of that war is something the world was better off forgetting. Many records have not been so much lost as destroyed and with good reason.”

“I understand that, father, but it was a priestess of Sahenine who spoke the prophecy that foretold The Dark Ones would return one day. And now, it seems that they are doing just that.” Lyriel spoke a bit frantically as she felt the priest begin to shut down.

“It was a young priestess of the moon mother who spoke those words, though not many know of the prophecy. I feel it is best that they do not. Prophecies often lead to lunacy and jumping to conclusions about the fate of the world.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “No one can tell when prophecies will come to fruition or if they will at all.”

“But in my dream we fought creatures from the Underdark. The symbol was on a standard, on pieces of armor…” Lyriel looked at the priest pleadingly as tears of frustration started to well up in her eyes. “It has to mean something.”

The priest offered a kind smile. “Those who look for connections in everything they see will always find them.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned to leave.

Lyriel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. “Thanks anyways.” The gnome gathered herself and bowed to him before walking out into the chapel.

Lyriel’s footsteps seemed tiny and insignificant as they landed on the stone floor of the vast temple. She felt rejected by the one hope that had been burning in the pit of her stomach, keeping her going. She noticed Bianca and Remgull waiting near the doors and rejoined them.

Bianca looked down at her expectantly. “Well?”

Lyriel shook her head. “I prayed, and nothing. I talked to the priest and he expressed that he didn’t put much stock in prophecies. He didn’t even seem to care about what we found.”

“He wasn’t the least bit afraid?” Bianca bit her lip.

Lyriel shrugged. “Oh, he seemed afraid at the prospect of The Dark Ones having some sort of foothold outside of The Underdark, but he just shoved it deep down inside of himself, like he didn’t want to even confront the possibility that the prophecy could be coming true. Who could blame him?” She looked down at her feet.

Suddenly, Lyriel heard someone clear his throat behind her. It was the priest.

“Moonchild, do not lose hope. Perhaps the purpose of your dream was simply to bring the three of you together. Dreams are powerful things and Sahenine often speaks to us in riddles. While I hope that what you have said is not a sign of horrible things to come, I can at least do my part to prepare you for whatever may lie ahead.” He held out a scroll marked with silver lettering in one hand and a few rune stones and herbs in the other. “Should any of you fall prone to disease or sickness during your travels, perform this ritual to create a curative mixture. These are enough components for one ritual. If I had more to spare I would.”

Lyriel stepped forward to receive her gifts. “Thank you father. Blessed be Sahenine.”

The priest nodded and nervously moved to open the door for them. He looked between all three of the travelers. “Blessed be us all, moonchild.”

Chapter 7: Celim

15 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, bard, bargain, blog, campaign, celebrate, celim, changeling, chapter, d&d, d20, diplomacy, dnd, drowning, dungeons and dragons, elf, event, fantasy, gnome, guards, guardsman, inn, intimidate, introduction, loot, novel, politics, quest, role playing game, skill challenge, song of the bard, sorcerer, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, tavern, the dark ones, tiefling, warforged

The tiefling stood before them and his otherworldly eyes looked upon each one of them in turn. “Greetings.” His voice was rich and deep. His entire countenance was rather terrifying and his twisting horns curled around behind his broad shoulders. He was quite imposing and stood atleast twice as tall as Lyriel.

Even with the height difference, Lyriel puffed out her chest and stood as tall as she could in his presence. “Can we help you?”

The tiefling folded his hands and bowed. “My name is Celim. You are new in town, yes?”

Bianca offered a coy smile. “I grew up in the countryside. I’ve never been to a big city before.” She offered her hand. “Bianca.”

The tiefling took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it gently. “A great pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He released her hand and turned to Remgull, eying the brand on his shoulder. “Milner. A warforged wandering the world alone. Curious and intriguing.”

The construct got to his feet, his neck joints hissing as he looked the tiefling up and down. “Remgull Milner,” he corrected. “You know of my kind?”

The tiefling offered a dubious expression. “You were all created to help wage the great war. This, you know?”

“He lost his memory,” Bianca said.

Remgull’s eyes flickered. “The great war? Against The Dark Ones?”

Celim pursed his lips. “You don’t know your history? Most interesting indeed. Actually, you were created as weapons by both sides. Not many of you remain, but those who do tend to band together and search for a new purpose. I do not think your makers expected you all to live beyond your initial usage.” His eyes shifted down to Lyriel expectantly.

The bard arched a brow and stuck out her hand. “I’m Lyriel Riverdw-”

Bianca cleared her throat loudly. “In the interest of time…” She muttered under her breath as she twisted a flirtatious finger into her long black hair.

The gnome blushed. “Er, Lyriel… is my name. What makes you think we’re new in town?”

Celim chuckled darkly. “Checking into an inn rather than residing in a domestic home would imply an element of newness even to a simpleton.”

Lyriel shifted her weight. “Or just a simple passing-through-ness.”

Celim grinned widely, yet there was a sinisterness to it that could send chills up even the most confident spine. “And are you?”

Lyriel gulped. “Are we what?”

“Passing through?” He inquired.

Bianca batted her eyelashes. “No. We intend to stay and try to find some,” She purred. “Honest work.”

“I have some work you would be perfect for.” Celim clasped his hands in front of him.

“Why us?” Lyriel interrupted.

“You’ve been largely untouched by the politics and people of Larkenvale, which gives me the chance to offer my points of view without prior prejudice.”

“Does one get paid to perform these ‘clean slate’ type services?” Remgull asked.

Celim reached inside his dark voluminous robes and withdrew a large sack. He jingled it lightly so that they could hear its contents. “They do. Take this for now and all I ask in return is that you have dinner here with me this evening.” He tossed the bag to Remgull who caught it and immediately began counting its contents

Lyriel looked at both of her companions. Both seemed quite enamored of the tiefling. Bianca seemed to be lusting over the strange horned man and Remgull was lusting after his coinpurse, at any rate. “No strings attached?” She asked.

Celim nodded. “No strings. Whether you decide to work with me afterwards is entirely up to you.”

Lyriel extended her hand cautiously. “I’ve never been one to turn down a free meal.”

Celim grinned again. “Then I shall meet you here after sunset.” With that, he bowed deeply and departed.

“We’re rich!” Remgull declared. He jumped up and down, causing the springs in his ankles to creak and making a loud crash each time his metal feet landed on the pave stones of the hearth.

“Let’s just see what he has to say first, then we’ll worry about working for him.” Lyriel looked to Bianca for support.

The changeling sighed and rolled her eyes. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. We can’t make any firm commitments till we know what he’s really after.” She grabbed the money bag from Remgull and looked in side. The construct slumped his shoulders forward and scuffed his toes on the floor. “Once we’re all a bit drier, I say we visit a magic shop.”

Remgull brightened. “Residium!”

Lyriel’s eyes followed Celim as he exited the inn and disappeared in the hustle and bustle of the street outside. “Residium, indeed.”

Chapter 6: Larkenvale

15 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, bard, bargain, battle, beginning, blog, bomb, campaign, celebrate, changeling, chapter, combat, d&d, d20, dance, diplomacy, dnd, drowning, dungeons and dragons, dwarf, dwarves, elf, event, fantasy, gnome, guards, guardsman, half elf, inn, intimidate, loot, mithril, novel, party, prophecy, role playing game, Sahenine, save, skill challenge, slaves, song of the bard, sorcerer, stable, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, tavern, the dark ones, tiefling, warforged

Lyriel woke early the next morning and began her normal stretching routine. The previous evening’s carousing had left her with sore muscles and a headache but she smiled as she thought over the merry events of the night. They stood in such stark contrast to the more pressing matters at hand.

They had found evidence of The Dark Ones. That would have to be dealt with. Surely they couldn’t keep something like that to themselves, though the manner of the telling would be most difficult. The priest was right. If they went around blathering about the emergence of a great evil, people would begin acting without caution. This knowledge needed to fall upon the right ears- ears that would be able to do something about it.

Lyriel was pondering this and rocking back and forth with her feet behind her head when Opaline sat up in the bed and groaned. “Ugh. My head.”

Lyriel giggled. “You’re a changeling. Can’t you just change into someone without a hangover.”

Opaline thought about this for a moment and then transformed herself into a little girl with a big tuft of blond hair. She was dwarfed and practically swimming in Opaline’s adult undergarments. “Still hurts!” She announced brightly and morphed into her elven form, filling out her clothes again.

Lyriel got to her feet and looked around the room. Remgull had taken a seat next to the desk again and the light in his eyes was out. The gnome approached him and bonked him on his silver plated head with her knuckles. “Hey you in there? We need to talk about what we should do.”

The red light sprang to life in the construct’s eyes and his arcane mechanics buzzed as he tilted his neck to regard her. “Wanna play?” Remgull’s voice was high pitched and boyish as it echoed inside of his metal armor.

The gnome blinked. “We might be on the brink of the apocalypse and you want to play?”

Opaline hushed her and stepped forward, pulling her robe down over her head. “Remgull, is that you in there?”

The warforged’s metal lips fashioned themselves into a smile. “Of course it is, dummy! Who else would I be?”

Lyriel crossed her arms over her chest. “Is there any chance we could chalk this up to faulty wiring again?”

“Maybe this is what happens when a warforged loses his memory. Maybe he’s just trying on hats till it feels right,” Opaline considered him.

“Maybe someone dropped him on his head,” Lyriel muttered.

Remgull pouted and got to his feet, stomping angrily. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

The stomping was quite loud and Lyriel felt the floorboards crack underneath his weight. She put out her hands to calm him. “Whoa, let’s settle down, killer. The three of us are on a quest and we need to figure out what to do next.”

Opaline was busy coiling her vine hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. “Isn’t our quest over? We saved the village, yay-hooray?”

Lyriel shook her head. “That can’t be the end. I had a dream. We were all a part of it. In my dream we fought creatures from the Underdark. Now we find proof that The Dark Ones are finding ways to take hold of our world. This can’t be a coincidence. We will have a part to play in all of this before the end. I’m sure of it.”

Remgull nodded. “Sounds like there could money in it, too.”

Opaline buckled her cloak around her shoulders. “Who do we tell? The priest didn’t seem to want anything to do with it.”

Lyriel bit her lip. “You’ve got a point there. Our answers won’t be in Lowood. Our destinies lie elsewhere.”

“I’m bored,” Remgull whined.

Lyriel grunted. “The city of Larkenvale isn’t far from here. I’ve played taverns there in the past. There are plenty of learned men and women, even a sizable town guard. It’s a bustling town with plenty of trade and certainly there’s be money to be made.” The bard winked at Remgull. “At the very least we could visit the temple of Sahenine. After all, it was a priestess of that sect who made the prophecy I read and she is the patron goddess of wanderers. She may point us in the right direction.”

Opaline sighed. “It’s sad to think that we’ve outgrown a place that holds us in such high esteem, but I agree. I think we should take our chances in Larkenvale.”

The red light behind Remgull’s jeweled eyes flickered. “Will there be residium?”

Opaline looked at the warforged. “What’s residium?”

Remgull wriggled his fingers. “It’s magical material used to enchant items. Worth a pretty penny too! Oh, what I wouldn’t give to get my hands on some of that stuff.”

Lyriel blinked and rubbed her forehead. “There are magic shops in Larkenvale. I’m sure they’ll have some, and if they don’t they’ll know where to get it.”

Remgull’s mouth opened wider and wider until the gnome was sure it would disconnect from the rest of his face.

The gnome arched a brow. “Well, that settles it. We’ll go to Larkenvale.”

The three of them gathered their things and stopped by the bar on their way out to get some breakfast. Robert made them eggs and toast and even packed them some loaves of bread for the journey.

While Opaline and Remgull secured the horses, Lyriel stopped by Daniel’s blacksmith shop to pick up her new armor. When she arrived, he was hard at work and sweat was rolling down his face. Something blindingly silver was laying across the anvil and he was pounding away at it carefully with a small hammer.

Daniel looked up from his work as he saw her approaching. “You’re just in time.” He grinned and held up the piece he’d been working on. The mithril armor shown brightly in the red firelight of the molten forge. Lyriel almost had to shield her eyes. The rings of the chain mail were tiny and very flexible. It was equipped with leather straps on the sides so it could be fitted snugly to her body. It had a cowl necked and two thick brown leather shoulder straps. Lyriel marveled at it as Daniel brought it over to her.

“It’s my best work yet,” he said. “I even had our priest do a simple enchantment.” He motioned for her to take off her bodice and she quickly undid the laces.

Daniel knelt down beside her and slide the cool metal over her head. It gave the gnome goosebumps as it caressed her skin. The blacksmith, pulled the straps on the sides and on her shoulders tight until the armor fit like a glove. Lyriel was surprised at how light it was. Daniel helped her put her bodice back on over the armor.

“There,” he ruffled Lyriel’s white blonde hair. “When in danger, call on Bahamut’s name and you will feel revived. The priest imbued this chest piece with healing qualities that will be activated by the dragon god’s name.”

Lyriel removed her coin purse and opened it up. “How much?”

Daniel took hold of her shoulders. “It’s a gift. Bear it well.”

Lyriel took one of his hands in her two small ones. “I will wear it and remember the people of Lowood.”

Daniel nodded and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “Come back and sing to us of your adventures.”

The gnome bowed her head and stepped back. “I’ll do my best.”

Lyriel gave him a wink and a wave and then walked out into the snow and down the road to the stables. When she arrived, she found Opaline and Remgull saddling the same two horses they’d borrowed before.

Opaline beamed at her. “They just gave them to us!”

Remgull was attempting to braid his horse’s tail. It wasn’t going all that well for him considering he only had three fingers to work with, but he looked up and shouted, “For free!”

Opaline loaded their horse’s saddle with a few packs of supplies. She listed them off one by one. “Feed, rations, rope, a bed roll- we can share that, you and I-” She motioned to Lyriel and then walked over to her, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “They didn’t have any cloaks but I figured this would keep you warm for the journey. Nice armor!” She ran her fingertips along the leather straps.

Remgull’s neck joints hissed as he turned to regard her. “It’s super shiny. And you can still see your tattoos.”

Lyriel twirled and let them take it in before wrapping her blanket around herself tightly. “That Daniel does good work.”

Opaline offered her a knee and helped the gnome climb up onto their mare’s back.

Remgull mounted his grey stallion and clucked to it happily. “Larkenvale, ho!”

The construct went galloping off and Opaline hopped onto the horse behind Lyriel, spurring their mount into action as well.

It was a very cold day and Lyriel was glad to be snuggled tightly in Opaline’s arms as they rode along. As they got further from Lowood, the road opened up and the wind whipped at them violently. A stream appeared on their left, though the surface was frozen solid. By midday, the stream became a great river and the sky expanded overhead, full of great puffy grey clouds. The forest appeared to be larger as well, the pine trees reaching up into the blizzard.

The travelers soon approached a bridge and as they crossed it, they could just begin to make out the walls and spires of Larkenvale in the distance, though the image was very obscured by thick sheets of snow.

Remgull pulled his horse up short and looked over his shoulder at Opaline. “Do you hear that?”

Opaline’s horse trotted up beside him and they stopped to listen.

Over the whistling wind, they also heard what seemed like yells and a great deal of splashing. They all craned their necks to see if they could determine the source of the noises.

Lyriel pulled the blanked down from over her head and pointed to their left. “There! Where the river gets wider. Someone’s fallen through the ice!”

They quickly tied their horses to the bridge. Lyriel grabbed the rope that Opaline had fastened to their saddle and ran out onto the ice. Remgull started to follow her, but Lyriel put out a hand to stop him on the bank. “No! You’re too heavy. Wait… You’re heavy!” She handed him one end of the rope. “Tie this around your waist.”

Opaline continued out onto the ice. She could hear it creak beneath her footsteps, but it seemed to bear her weight just fine. As she approached the center of the river, she could see the gaping hole in the ice. Chunks of it were floating in the freezing black water.

A dwarf was splashing about and flailing. “C-c-c-can’t s-s-wim! H-glug-help!” His eyes rolled back into his head and he began to sink bellow the surface.

Opaline held out her hand to grab him, but his fingers were so cold that he couldn’t get a good grip.

Suddenly, Lyriel flipped through the air over Opaline’s head and dove into the water with her end of the rope tied around her waist, the excess line coiled in her hand.

The water hit the bard like a ton of bricks. It was absolutely freezing, but she managed to grab the dwarf around his mid section and fasten the rope around him. She pulled tightly on the rope.

Opaline saw the rope go taut and she grabbed hold of it and began to pull. “Remgull, heave!”

Remgull had gotten distracted and started making snow angels on the riverbank. He was no help at all.

Opaline felt something pound on the ice beneath her. She realized it was Lyriel’s feet. She was pounding on the ice with her toes as the current of the river caused her and the dwarf to get pulled under the ice. Opaline pulled on the rope as hard as she could, but the force of the river was too strong. She thought quickly and moved farther back down the rope, calling for Remgull. “Remgull get up and hold on tight!”

This time, the warforged obeyed and got to his feet, still covered in snow. He dug his heels into the ground as the rope threatened to pull him out onto the ice. He lasted a few moments, but then the force became to great and he slipped down into the water, breaking the ice around him.

Opaline could still feel the ice shake beneath her from Lyriel’s frantic movements underwater. “They’re running out of air! Hold on Remgull! I have to let go of the rope!”

Remgull righted himself and took a stronger stance, leaning his weight away from the rope to hold it in place. “Go!”

Opaline carefully slid to the hole in the ice and closed her eyes. Her entire frame began to flicker with bright sunlight until she was silhouetted in black. The heat she radiated began to melt the ice. She moved backwards along the rope towards Remgull on the shore and as she did, the ice melted away and opened up all the way to the bank.

Lyriel’s head popped out of the water and she gasped for air. She did her best to tread water but it was just too cold. “H-help!”

Opaline quickly dispersed the flames that had been outlining her body and ran along the edge of the ice to catch her hand. She pulled Lyriel out of the water, but the poor bard almost got pulled back in by the weight of the dwarf she was tied to. Opaline quickly began to pull him out as well and with Remgull’s help, they got both of them safely to the riverbank.

The dwarf and the gnome were shivering and pale. Now that he was out of the water, they could see that the dwarf was very young. He had cropped bright red hair and his thick mustache was braided on both sides of his mouth.

“They need to get warm and dry.” Remgull looked around for a place nearer to the road, but everything was covered in snow.

Opaline stepped into a large flat area and her body became engulfed by sunlight. After a bright flash, the light subsided and a circular area around her had been cleared of snow and the grass was dead beneath her feet, but very dry. “Quickly, over here.” The changeling gathered up some dry leaves and brambles and piled them in the center of the area. With a snap of her fingers she created a small fire and dashed off to the horses to fetch a bedroll.

Remgull wrapped Lyriel in the blanket that she had left strewn on the side of the river and sent her up to the fire to get warm. He pulled the dwarf up into the circle as well and after Opaline had laid him out on the bedroll, he checked for a heartbeat. “Not breathing.”

The construct began pressing rhythmically on his chest and instructed Opaline to blow into his mouth. With her tiny teeth chattering, Lyriel got up to watch them. After a few repetitions, the dwarf coughed up mouthful of water. His eyes fluttered open for a brief moment and he took in the three of them, but almost as soon as they opened, he passed out.

Remgull nodded. “Well at least he’s breathing.”

Lyriel nodded with a violent shudder. “We n-need to g-get him t-to town.”

Opaline rubbed the gnome’s shoulders to get her warm. “He’s too big to ride with one of us. You’ll have to take him. Are you up to it?”

Lyriel nodded and began walking towards their horse. When she returned, they loaded the dwarf onto the horse and hefted Lyriel up infront of him. They used the rope to tie him to the horse. They wrapped his arms around her waist and she held onto him tightly with one hand. “I’ll m-meet you at the g-gates once he’s in a medic’s care.” She kicked the mare into a full gallop and rode over the snowy hills towards Larkenvale.

The black gates of the city seemed to loom over the bard even before she reached them. The stone walls of the city were tall and highly defensible. As she got closer, Lyriel noticed guards walking along the tops of the wall and standing in groups outside the gates. Two large dwarves grabbed the reins of her horse as she arrived.

“Open the gates! I have an injured citizen here.” As she spoke, Lyriel realize she didn’t know if he was a citizen of Larkenvale, but she supposed it was a reasonable enough assumption.

One of the dwarves pulled her down off of the horse, who snorted, whinnied, and stomped her foot unhappily. Another one pulled the bedroll off of the dwarf and gasped when they saw his face.

“It’s Banil’s boy!” The guard hopped up onto the horse himself and shouted up to the guards on the ramparts. “Open the gates!”

Before Lyriel could protest, the gates swung open with a loud clunk and the guard road away on her horse, the unconscious dwarf, and her supplies.

Shivering, raging, and still being held back by the dwarf who had pulled her down from the saddle, she pummeled him with her fists. “You listen here! You just unhorsed me and stole my mount!”

The dwarf easily tossed her back into the snow. “What did you do to that boy?”

Lyriel growled and got to her feet. “I saved his life. I hope that’s alright with you!”

The dwarf leaned on his axe. “What’s your business in Larkenvale?”

“My companions are following behind me. I rode ahead to make sure that young dwarf received medical attention as soon as possible. We’re hoping to find work in town and to visit the Temple of Sahenine.”

The dwarf looked her over and rubbed his long brown beard with his gauntlet. “Very well, but you needn’t be so pushy about it all.”

Lyriel pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “And my horse?”

The dwarf bowed his head slightly with a sigh. “You’ll find her at the stables near these gates as soon as the boy is delivered to the hospice. His father, Banil, is the blacksmith in town, and a terribly good one at that. He’ll want to thank you for returning Ganil safely home, I’m certain. Now be on your way.”

Remgull and a young human woman appeared through the white sheets of snow. The woman looked to be no more than eighteen years old and her skin was milky white. She had piercing green eyes and long ebon hair that fell over her shoulders in curls. If it hadn’t been for the telltale robes, Lyriel would never have known that the young woman was Opaline.

As they rode up, Lyriel smirked up at her. “And you are?”

The woman extended a graceful hand. “Bianca. Charmed I’m sure.”

Remgull looked around as he got off of his horse. “Where’s your horse?”

Lyriel jerked her thumb at the dwarven guard who was still leaning on his axe. “They took her to deliver the boy to a doctor. They promised to return her to the stable on this side of town when they were done.”

Bianca tossed her hair and noticed all the dwarven guardsmen were looking at her. “Any word on who he was.”

Lyriel watched all the men leering at her friend and shrugged. “Apparently we’re really good at saving the sons of blacksmiths. His name is Ganil and he’s the son of the local smithy, I’m told.”

Remgull nodded. “Well lets find that stable quick and we’ll board this old fellow there too.”

Bianca nodded. “Then I’ll need a stiff drink and a warm fire.”

Lyriel grinned. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The dwarven guard interrupted her and stood looking staunchly up at the other two travelers. “Apparently I do. BE ON YOUR WAY, I said!”

Lyriel saluted him and they all walked into town. Everything was covered in snow, but inside the town, the cobblestone streets were well traveled and full of slush. The houses were waddle and daub with thatched roofs. This particular part of town seemed to be comprised of dwarves and halflings. The residential dwarves were more portly than the guards they’d met at the wall. The dwarves seemed to run a few ale houses and bakeries along the road whilst the halflings stood about a foot taller than Lyriel. They nimbly jogged through the streets, carrying deliveries back and forth to the different shops. They passed a Half-Moon Trading House which Lyriel explained was run by a family of halflings who had stores all over the known world with the best prices one could hope for. Finally they came upon the stables and Remgull knocked on the door.

It swung open, but it looked like no one had answered it. At least, it looked that way to Remgull and Bianca. About two and half feet below their eye level, Lyriel struck up a lively conversation with a very attractive halfling with curly brown hair and dark skin.

The halfling wore a green leather jerkin and leaned against the door roguishly. “I’m Roscoe Oldfur. How can I help you today?”

Lyriel bowed politely. “I’m Lyriel Riverdwell Moonrhyme Laughster “Didn’t-do-it” Shinydeath Thunderclap “So-Loud” Songsmith Smith. Do you have room to board another horse?”

Roscoe looked overwhelmed and then blinked. “Yes?”

Lyriel elbowed Remgull in the knee. “Well, pay the man!” The gnome winked and Remgull reluctantly handed over a few gold.

The halfling thanked him and took his horse around to the stables.

Bianca’s eyes were wide and happy as she took in the sights and sounds of Larkenvale. “Where to next?”

Lyriel blew through her lips, looking up and down the street. “Well, we’re very near The Silver Unicorn, but they’re a bit pricey. If you can stand a bit of walking in order to cross the Orlin River in the center of town, we can get a better price on a room and more interesting company at The Noble Cutpurse.”

They all agreed that cheeper was better and so they trekked across town. Once they got to the river, the whole town seemed to open up and they could begin to see more of its layout. Rising high above one side, they could see an acropolis at the top of which there sat a large white castle with blue and grey turrets. They could just make out a winding road that traveled all the way to the top. On the side of the river they were crossing to, they could make out a lot of houses with smoke rising from the chimneys as well as several carts moving along the road. In the distance, they could see snowy farmland stretching out from the river and encircling the entire town.

Once they crossed the bridge, they made a few twists and turns and were suddenly face to face with a large two story building. Inside, they could see fires blazing and they noticed that the roof was lined with chimneys, each with its own spiral of black smoke. There was a sign hanging above the door in the shape of a gilded dagger that read, “The Noble Cutpurse.”

Remgull climbed up the stairs and pushed open the door. There was a large desk up front and behind it, stood a very tall half elf who opened his arms to them.

The man was dressed in blue silks and his long blond hair was tied back behind his pointed ears. “I am Elarin. Welcome to The Noble Cutpurse.”

The three of them nodded and Lyriel stepped up to the counter. “We’d like two rooms. One for this one.” She motioned to Remgull. “And one for us to share.”

Elarin nodded and opened a very large account book on his desk. He removed a quill from its ink stand and pointed at them. “That will be ten gold a night.”

Lyriel sucked in sharply through her teeth. “That’s a bit steep for this part of town, don’t you think?”

Elarin narrowed his eyes. “These are the lowest prices you’ll find in Larkenvale. If you don’t like it, you can sleep outside.” He leaned forward and looks down at her over the edge of the desk. “In the snow.”

Lyriel pouted. “Ten gold a night, even for a well known bard and her companions?”

Elarin raised a brow and withdrew a little. “A bard, eh?”

Lyriel took out her lyre and plucked out a few notes as she sang out her name. “Lyriel Riverdwell Moonrhyme Laughster “Didn’t-do-it” Shinydeath Thunderclap “So-Loud” Songsmith Smith.” She waggled her fingers for added effect.

Elarin laughed shortly and then shook his quill at her. “Ah yes. You’re the one with all the names. I’ve heard good things about you. How about, seven gold a night, assuming you play a bit while you’re here?”

The bard bowed deeply. “I thought you’d never ask, Elarin, dear.”

Lyriel gathered up the money from Remgull and Bianca and slid it across the counter. “If you’ll excuse us, we rather need to get warm.”

Elarin nodded. “But of course. There’s a large fire in the tavern.” He motioned for them to follow him and he took them through a doorway beside the desk.

The room they entered was bustling with life. There were circular tables filled with all manner of folk; humans, halflings, elves, and dwarves. They all seemed to be playing games of chance or talking secretively. The far wall was lined with a very long bar counter tended by a burly bald man. Elarin pointed out a large fireplace with a few stools in front of it on the left wall and handed them their keys, telling them that their rooms were upstairs.

Remgull took a seat at nearby table and immediately commenced collecting empty mugs and building a pyramid out of them.

Bianca and Lyriel removed their outerwear and began warming themselves by the fire. Lyriel took off her boots and set them on the stone floor in front of the flames to dry. She also removed her bodice and lay it over a stool. Bianca took off her cloak and hung it over a bench with the gnome’s blanket.

Remgull finally completed his tower of mugs and showed them off to the ladies proudly. “Am I good, or am I good?”

Lyriel chuckled. “You’re good. I like you better this way.” She leaned her head on his arm.

Remgull didn’t seem to hear her. His gaze seemed to be locked on someone watching them from the corner of the room. Lyriel sat up followed his line of sight with her own eyes.

Sitting alone at a table in the shadows was a tiefling with olive skin and twisting horns. His hair was so long and dark that for her part, Bianca could hardly tell where it ended and his flowing midnight robes began. Even from the shadows, his mossy green eyes leapt out from the darkness. His gaze never wavered from them.

Lyriel furrowed her brow. “How long has he been watching us?”

Remgull shrugged, the metal and wood pieces of his shoulder joints scratching against each other. “Since we came in?”

Bianca sighed huskily. “He’s magnificent.”

No sooner had she spoken, than the tiefling rose to his feet and began walking toward them.

Lyriel straightened and rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger. “He’s trouble.”

Chapter 5: The Dark Ones

14 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, Bahamut, bard, battle, beginning, blog, bomb, campaign, celebrate, changeling, chapter, combat, d&d, d20, dance, dnd, dungeons and dragons, fantasy, gnoll, gnolls, gnome, hyena, hyenas, intimidate, loot, mithril, novel, party, prophecy, role playing game, slaves, song of the bard, sorcerer, stargazing, stars, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, the dark ones, warforged, win

Opaline wrinkled her nose, “I take it, this is a bad sign?”

Remgull reached forward and appraised the quality of the cloth. “How much do you think this is worth?”

Lyriel snatched the standard away from the warforged and glared at him. “Can you, for once, think about anything other than money? This is far larger than any one of us, larger than Lowood, larger than… just. It’s big! I’ve only seen this symbol once before and it was in a book on the great war at The Fey University.”

Opaline frowned. “Fey-Uni-who-now?”

Lyriel sighed. “The book was incomplete but it did recount some events of the great war, including an essay on Changelings and their abilities. It’s how I knew what you were last night. That passage I recited stayed with me as well and that symbol was printed alongside it in the book. It was a prophecy recorded following the war by a priestess of Sahenine. Most people dismissed it because they considered The Dark Ones defeated, but some gave it credence and said that they were destined to return.”

Opaline rolled her eyes, “All of that is well and good, but what are we supposed to do about it?”

Lyriel starred at the symbol and then shrugged, “Clearly these gnolls were working for them.” She waved her hand at the armor she had accidentally dragged out of the hovel. Even from where they stood, the three of them could see that it all bore the same mark. “If they were serving them, there are bound to be others as well.”

Opaline moved to pick up some of the armor and tucked it under her arm. “Let’s take all of this back to the priest and see what he has to say.”

The three of them collected up a few of the other items bearing the symbol and Opaline tasked Remgull with removing the head of a very large and surly looking gnoll so that they could prove their success. Lyriel held out her new scimitar and the sentient construct shoved the head down on it. Lyriel leaned the sword back on her shoulder triumphantly and when they were sure they had salvaged all that they could, they began trudging back through the forest in the direction of their horses.

The ride back to town was fairly uneventful. Lyriel spent it trying out couplets and refrains that would tell the story of their exploits. Even Remgull seemed mildly amused when she sang about his lightning darts shocking Opaline back to consciousness. Opaline laughed raucously when the gnome rhymed “ode” with “explode” in reference to her volatile activities on the tree house balcony. In short, the time passed rather quickly and they arrived back in Lowood at dusk. After returning their horses to the stables, they wasted no time in getting to the chapel.

Lyriel burst through the cellar door, flourishing her sword and holding out the dead gnoll’s head. “Behold, your foes are but shadows in the mist!” She knelt down and bowed her head in reverence to the priest.

Remgull followed behind and bellowed flatly, “They’re dead. Now we get money.”

Opaline entered behind them, having transformed into Noric and put her arms around the two of them. “The people of Lowood are safe! Praise be to Bahamut!”

The priest turned from his desk where he had been reading and gasped upon seeing the head of a dead gnoll thrust forward. He gaped and looked between them all, many different emotions flashing across his face; surprise, terror, disgust, joy. He finally clasped his hands together and shouted happily, “Praise to Bahamut, indeed! You have done this impossible thing! I thought for sure you would be lost to us, but I prayed perhaps there was a hope and now here you stand!”

Lyriel lowered her sword, and leaned it against the wall so that the head would be out of the way while they talked. “We are simply happy to have safeguarded your people. Now that there is no threat to Lowood, you could use this time to train your young ones. Your blacksmith, Daniel, is very talented. Without his help in securing our arms, I’m sure we never would have won. He could do the same for all the people in Lowood.”

The priest thought on this for a moment and then nodded. “Perhaps it is time for Lowood to stand on our own. We can use this time of peace to better ourselves.” The priest reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a small sack of coins. He held it out. Noric waved the bard forward to take it.

Noric removed the battle standard from under his arm and unfolded the grey cloth, shaking it out so that the symbol was revealed to the priest. “What does this mean to you?”

The priest stumbled backwards, pointing at the symbol. “You dare bring that cursed thing into a holy house? Where did you come by that?”

Noric hung the cloth over his arm and folded his hands in front of him. “This was found at the camp along with several other items bearing the same mark. What do you know of its meaning?”

The priest was still shaking as he straightened. “That is the mark of The Dark Ones. They are the ancient evil behind the great war. The rulers of the Underdark, in fact.”

Noric frowned with disappointment. “That’s all you know?”

The priest shook his head dubiously, “Not many records have survived. Many fear the symbol itself. Everything they left behind was destroyed in an effort to cleanse the land of their blight.”

The warforged’s wooden joints creaked as he stepped up beside Noric. “Then the land is unclean. This marks their return.”

The priest looked quite troubled. “I hope for all of our sakes that is not true.” He cleared his throat. “For the time being, I suggest you keep this information to yourselves. It could result in an outbreak of mass hysteria. For tonight, however, I propose we focus on your great success and our gratitude. Tonight, we celebrate!” He smiled and clapped his hand on Remgull’s shoulder, turning to happier things.

Within hours, any mention of The Dark Ones had faded and the town was abuzz with activity. Word traveled quickly about the success of the Envoys of Bahamut and everyone wanted to thank the heroes for their great deeds. The villagers didn’t have much but they all gathered at The Drunken Pony that evening bearing plates of food and jugs of wine. There was a great feast for everyone to enjoy, except Remgull of course who sat looking from side to side as if he did not know what to do in the midst of such happiness. The little boy, Jason, came and sat on his lap, prodding at his arm and begging the construct over and over to show him how his crossbow worked. Lyriel played her lyre and everyone stomped their feet and danced with abandon. At one point, Daniel came forward and took the mithril she had discovered at the gnoll camp. He promised to work till sun-up making Lyriel a suit of chain mail that would remind her there was always a home for her in Lowood. Opaline took a group of villagers outside and gave them a lesson in stargazing, pointing out the heroes of the past as they painted the night sky.

For the people of Lowood, it seemed like all evil had been banished from the world, but for three unlikely companions, something deep and dark had been awoken inside of them. They knew that the evening’s festivities were nothing more than a lovely distraction.

Chapter 4: Outnumbered

13 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, Bahamut, bard, battle, beginning, blog, bomb, campaign, changeling, chapter, combat, d&d, d20, dnd, dungeons and dragons, fantasy, gnoll, gnolls, gnome, hyena, hyenas, intimidate, loot, mithril, novel, party, prophecy, role playing game, slaves, song of the bard, sorcerer, story, strategy, tabletop rpg, the dark ones, warforged

Opaline lead them to the very edge of the gnoll camp. They were just far enough away that they could communicate through whispers but close enough to see what their enemies were up to.

A few yards away, a hyena has sleeping while tethered to a stake driven into the ground and beyond that, there was a great pit. Inside the pit, two hyenas were viciously attacking each other while members of the tribe gathered around them and urged them on, throwing up their paws and barking orders to the animals in a wild manner. As the fight intensified and the audience let out increasingly bloodthirsty roars, more of the gnolls meandered over and began watching the match. The drumming sounds were coming from a few gnolls who were beating on deerskin instruments with their paws.

Lyriel counted them. “Thirty gnolls and three hyenas against three of us. Not to be a downer, but I don’t like those odds.”

On the outskirts of the camp, there were several hovels and simple shacks, between which were small camp fires with meat roasting on spits. On the right edge of the camp, there was a collection of crude cages containing humans slaves. They were wretched, manacled, and covered in filth. At a distance, Lyriel couldn’t tell if all of them were even alive. At any rate, it didn’t seem like the gnolls would have cared if they were.

Remgull pointed up into the trees. Opaline and Lyriel could just make out a system of tree houses connected by bridges. However, there only seemed to be one with a ladder that hung all the way down to the ground.

Opaline squinted up at the lofty structures. “I’m going to go up there and see what I can find. Cover me.” With that, Opaline pranced off into the camp in her gnoll form.

“Please don’t die,” Lyriel muttered to herself.

As Opaline got closer to the sleeping hyena, its eyes shot open and it began to sniff the air curiously. When she got closer, the animal caught her scent. It got to its feet and lowered it’s head defensively, emitting a low continuous growl. Its lips curled back to reveal two rows of sharp, deadly fangs. Opaline walked toward it cautiously and grabbed a stick off of the ground. She tossed the stick to the creature and it immediately chomped down on it and caught it in its mouth. The hyena suddenly calmed and became preoccupied with its new toy.

Opaline slipped around the beast and kept her head down as she edged her way around the battle pit without being noticed. She finally grabbed hold of the ladder and quickly made her way up to the wooden treehouse at the top. She poked her head inside.

There were a few triangular windows along the outside of the room and it was full of barrels labelled with a variety of symbols. Opaline quickly began sorting through them. Some held provisions, others held pillaged goods or weaponry. At the back of the small room she found a large barrel with a red rim. She put her paws on the edge of the barrel and pushed up on her tip toes to look inside.

The whole barrel was filled to bursting with small iron balls with fuses attached. She picked one up and smelled it. Gunpowder. Her eyes lit up with excitement.

Opaline began to pick up a few of the bombs and cradle them in her arms when she heard a gruff voice behind her.

“Whatchyousdoin’?”

Opaline dumped the bombs back into the barrel and turned to face the source of the voice. She found a grey gnoll with black tipped ears starring her down.

Thinking on her feet, she responded in a gravelly tone. “Inventory.” She wagged her tail innocently.

The gnoll took a step forward and scented her before stepping back. “I go outside now.” With that, the gnoll turned on its heels and walked outside.

Opaline turned around and quickly began to drag the barrel of bombs towards one of the triangular openings. When she looked outside, she confirmed that the gnolls were still engrossed in the action inside the pit. She continued dragging the barrel to the doorway and stepped out onto the platform that wrapped all the way around the house. She picked up a bomb and snapped her fingers. A spark of flame leapt onto the fuse. She took a deep breath and tossed the bomb down towards the center of the crowd.

From the ground, Lyriel and Remgull saw Opaline light something in her hand, but they didn’t realize what she was doing until the bomb hit the ground and exploded violently. Five gnolls were completely obliterated and ripped to shreds by flame and shrapnel.

The remaining gnolls immediately rushed the single ladder hanging from the balcony of the treehouse and a few of them began climbing to the top. Opaline waited till a group of them was huddled at the bottom of the ladder, all struggling to climb it at once, and then lit another fuse and lobbed it down to the bottom.

It landed with a huge boom that shook the entire tree and decimated another group of gnolls. Opaline heard a great crack after the explosion as its force knocked the treehouse off center. It was now leaning at a considerable angle, but seemed to be holding fast.

The remaining gnolls on the ladder were beginning to reach the top. Opaline threw out her paws and a shower of radiant stars rushed out onto the top gnoll. The shock of the radiance not only knocked him from his perch but as he fell, he took another of his comrades with him.

With the entire camp thoroughly distracted by Opaline, Remgull began quickly wading through the charred, mangled bodies of the dead and moving towards the cages. Lyriel watched the remaining gnolls struggle to fit up the ladder at the same time in order to stop Opaline’s reign of destruction and decided it was time to pull some of them away from her. When Remgull was a safe distance away, Lyriel leapt out of the bushes and threw a rock at the head of a gnoll who was hanging from the bottom of the ladder. When he turned to see who had thrown it, she jumped behind a tree and all the creature saw was Remgull. It barked aggressively and sprinted towards the warforged.

Once the gnoll was after Remgull, Lyriel jumped out of hiding again and shouted at the others that were still climbing the ladder. “Over here, flea bag!” As she spoke, the lowest gnoll clutched his head in anguish and fell from the ladder. He got up and rushed at her with mace in hand. He swung low at her and she jumped into the air to avoid the attack. Her impulses were a bit slow and she caught the blow on her calf. Much to the gnoll’s surprise, the gnome disappeared into thin air before his very eyes.

Remgull had reached the cages and was fumbling to pick the lock when he caught an arrow in his left shoulder. The gnoll who was chasing him had stopped to fire the arrow from his bow and was looking down the shaft of another when Remgull turned to charge him.

Simultaneously, another gnoll made it to the top of the tree. He grappled Opaline and swung her into the wall of the treehouse. The force shook the structure and there was another loud crack.

From the ground where she was still running around invisible, Lyriel saw a giant rift winding up the tree. It had been started by the explosion at its base and was now reaching the large branch that was holding up the treehouse. The structure was shaking from side to side and seemed like it might fall at any moment.

On the balcony, the gnoll headbutted Opaline and as blood mingled with her black fur, the changeling felt her vision blur. The gnoll threw her body hard into the barrel of bombs beside her and while she managed to catch herself on the rope railing, the barrel was knocked on its side and went rolling off of the balcony.

It hit the ground with a fantastic boom that shook the earth violently. Smoke and flame rippled up the trunk as the sound of wood breaking apart echoed through the air and the entire tree began to fall.

Thinking fast, Opaline ducked below the rope and attempted to jump to the ladder and swing safely down. However, she was caught in the shoulder by the gnoll as he was thrown from the balcony by the violent motion of the fall. The force of the impact sent her spinning through the air away from the tree but she hit the ground with a thud and did not move thereafter. Unconscious, she lost her hold on her guise and quickly morphed into her changeling form.

Lyriel instinctively sprinted towards her fallen comrade, but she stepped on a branch and gave away her location just as she ran by the gnoll who was still looking for her. He swung his mace and it hit her square in the gut, knocking the wind out of her and sending her staggering backwards. She was now clearly visible and doubled over in pain.

As Remgull continued to charge his adversary, the tree thundered to the ground behind him. There was a terrible cry from the caged slaves as they were crushed upon impact. He saw Opaline lying on the ground as the gnoll swung at him with its dagger. He dropped his shoulder to miss the oncoming attack. The blade swung clear of him and as it did, he heard strange music spring to life inside his mind. Something gripped him deep inside of his chest and pulled him as few paces to his right.

Remgull saw his attacker ready to take another swing at him and he thought fast. He reached into his satchel and withdrew what looked like two steel darts attached by a coiled wire. He grabbed one of the darts and as the gnoll jabbed at him with its dagger, he grabbed its arm with his free hand and drove the dart into his shoulder. It glowed with swirling red energy as it pierced the skin. Remgull then whipped around and aimed the other dart at Opaline. It flew through the air with precision and drove into her abdomen. As soon as it pierced her flesh, it glowed red and crimson lightning arched between the two darts.

The gnoll’s body rippled with electricity and fell to the ground. Simultaneously Opaline’s back arched violently and her eyes shot open. She gasped for breath, her hands clutching at her chest.

Lyriel somersaulted forward to avoid the remaining gnoll’s attack as he swung his mace down through the air. She used the momentum to push up onto her feet and turned to face him. “Looks like rain.” She pointed at the sky.

The creature paused and oafishly peered up into the canopy of trees. Lyriel opened her mouth and rumbling thunder clouds poured out of it and wrapped themselves around the gnoll so that only his feet could be seen poking out. Suddenly lightning flashed and the gnoll yowled in terror and pain. He stumbled from side trying to escape but the cloud only followed him. Lyriel snapped her fingers and lightning flashed again. The gnoll tumbled to the ground and the clouds dispersed revealing his smoking corpse.

“If you’re gonna die, you might as well go out with a bang!” The gnome laughed merrily, clapping her hands.

Opaline peeled herself off of the ground, simultaneously taking on her elven form, and limped over to Remgull, who was pulling his dart out of the gnoll that was still attached to her by coiled wire. Once he had removed it, he carefully pulled the dart out of Opaline and began bandaging her up.

Lyriel skipped over to them. “We did it! Hell, you did it, Opaline! What were those things?”

Opaline smirked, using her arms to cover her nearly nude body. “Bombs. They had a whole bunch of them in that treehouse.” She looked at Remgull who was inspecting the darts closely and stuffing them into his satchel. “Um. Can I get my robe, please?”

Lyriel tapped her chin with her forefinger. “If they had bombs, who knows what else they could have stolen from other merchant caravans?” Immediately she set about foraging the barrels that had fallen out of the treehouse. She discovered several weapons strewn across the camp and took a small scimitar for herself, wedging the handle in her belt. Another barrel had completely splintered into pieces, but inside, she found a few metal bars wrapped in linen. They were surprisingly light and the silver metal shown surprisingly bright even in the dim light. Everything else from the treehouse seemed to be ripped to shreds by the explosion or destroyed by the fall itself. Amongst the debris, Lyriel managed to pic out a few sacks of coin that the gnolls had been using to place bets on the hyenas in the pits and a few semi precious gems from jewelry they had been wearing. She noted a nearby hovel and decided to take a look inside.

Remgull was obediently assisting Opaline to put on her robe and her cloak when they heard a great deal of clanking and loud crash. Lyriel had stumbled out of the shack with a very large triangular battle standard in her hands. The tail end was dragging in the dirt behind her. The crash had occurred when she apparently tripped over a suit of armor, pieces of which were trailing behind her, caught on the large piece of cloth. For the first time, the gnome was utterly silent.

Opaline arched a brow and approached the bard with caution. “What is it?”

Upon the rough, tattered, grey cloth was emblazoned a symbol in black. The crude embroidery shimmered as the bard held it up for them to see. It was a circle containing a triangle in the center. It was split in half by a vertical line drawn from the peak of the triangle to the bottom of the circle.

Remgull stomped up behind them and peered down at the cloth in Lyriel’s hands. “I do not know this symbol.”

Finally, Lyriel stammered a recitation from memory, “And they shall harbor themselves in the shadowy places of the world. They shall rule the Underdark and clamor for the minds of mortal men. They shall send forth the very agents of our demise and obliterate the spirit of life itself. All shall perish in the wake of The Dark Ones.”

Chapter 3: Envoys of Bahamut

11 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, Bahamut, bard, blog, campaign, changeling, chapter, d&d, d20, dnd, dungeons and dragons, fantasy, gnome, intimidate, loot, mithril, novel, role playing game, song of the bard, sorcerer, story, tabletop rpg, warforged

Opaline awoke with a yawn and pushed up on the bed with her arms. She looked to her right and discovered that Lyriel was no longer there.

“Morning!” Lyriel’s voice rang out from the foot of the bed.

Opaline blinked through her blurry morning vision. Once she he wiped her eyes, she saw that the gnome was doing a handstand on the wooden beam at the foot of the bed. In the background, Remgull sat in a chair against the wall next to a desk. The red light that normally illuminated his jeweled eyes was out and his hands were resting neatly on his plated knees. Opaline scratched her head, taking it all in. “Morning.

Lyriel did a backbend off of the end of the bed and started towards the door. “I’m heading to get some breakfast, if you want to join me.”

“Sounds good to me. I guess we’ll just leave Remgull here. After all, he doesn’t eat.” Opaline got out of bed, put on her robe, and assumed the guise of the fey touched elf before following her.

They walked down the hall and entered the main area of the tavern. The fire pit was ablaze again, but the barmaid that had served them the previous evening was on the floor, washing the blood away and righting the chairs and tables that had been knocked over during the gnoll attack.

Lyriel approached the bar and hopped up on one of the stools. She rapped on the counter with her knuckles. “Robert? It’s Lyriel.”

The unshaven barkeep poked his head out of the kitchen door. “Lyriel! I didn’t know you kept such good company! Looks like you and your friends saved most of the town last night.”

Lyriel blushed and looked at Opaline who was now seated beside her. “Yeah… How ‘bout that?” She turned back to Robert. “Got anything good for breakfast today?”

Robert frowned. “Nothing fancy, mind you, but I do have a bit of fruit and some hot porridge.” The barkeep looked over the edge of the counter. “Where’s your disc?”

“Won’t be needing it today. I have a feeling my friends and I will be on our way soon and its no good for traveling.” Lyriel smiled.

Robert’s placed the porridge in front of them, pleading, “But you can’t leave yet! There could be more of them out there. Once they learn that we’ve killed a scouting party, they’ll return in greater numbers.”

Opaline began to eat her porridge, deep in thought. “But what can we do?” She glanced up at Robert.

The barkeep seemed mesmerized by her appearance, the pearly skin and viney hair blooming with flowers even in the dead of winter. His face illuminated with hope. “Perhaps you could speak to the priest at the chapel. He may have some ideas.”

Lyriel nodded and put some silvers on the counter to pay for their meal. “We’ll go and see him.”

Opaline finished her porridge and handed over the bowl. “I’ll go get Remgull.”

The changeling, rose from her seat and returned to their room. Remgull still sat where they had left him, completely lifeless.

Opaline knocked on his forhead three times. “Wake up.”

Red light flickered behind his jeweled eyes and soon his body was buzzing with arcane energy again. “Designate?”

Confused, she spoke to the living machine. “Remgull, it’s me, remember? Opaline.”

The gears in Remgull’s neck hissed and popped as he turned to face her. “Remgull. Milner. Command?”

Opaline waved for him to follow. “Get up.” She started towards the door.

Remgull obeyed but did not follow. He stood still.

Opaline stopped and turned to face him, realizing he was not behind her. She rubbed her hands together, smirking. “Take a step to the right.”

Remgull did so.

Opaline grinned. “Carry me?”

The warforged paused and then obeyed, sweeping her up in his arms.

Opaline beamed. “This. Is going to be great.”

The changeling pointed the way and the construct followed her instructions as she directed him back to the gnome.

When they arrived at the bar, Lyriel was helping the barmaid set chairs around a table.

“Morning, Remgull.” Lyriel waved, turned back to her work, and then did a double take. “Wait, why is he carrying you?”

Opaline giggled. “Something’s faulty with his wiring I think. He’ll do anything I tell him to.”

Lyriel’s eyes brightened with amusement. “You have a giant suit of armor that will do anything you say? Eeeee!” She jumped up and down, steepling her forefingers. “I wonder if he’ll listen to me.”

Remgull’s eyes flared. “I won’t.”

Lyriel leapt backwards in surprise. “Um, let’s go see the priest.”

Robert waved. “Goodluck!”

Lyriel lead the way out of “The Drunken Pony” and Remgull followed, still carrying Opaline, who pulled her cloak over her head and yawned lazily.

However, Remgull was quickly stopped by a woman who grabbed his arm. He set Opaline down and faced her.

“It’s you! You saved us!” Upon further inspection, he realized it was the woman who’s son he had rescued the previous evening.

Lyriel stopped and jogged back towards them, nodding in greeting to the woman.

The woman smiled. “I’m so glad I caught you! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tana. My husband, Daniel, is our town’s blacksmith. We’re so grateful for what you did to help little Jason.”

Opaline lifted a brow. “Your son?”

Tana nodded.

Lyriel glanced at the chapel. “We’re on our way to see the priest about what we can do to help secure the village against the gnolls.”

Tana’s eyes filled with tears, “You have truly been sent by the great dragon himself. Please come and see us at the blacksmith’s shop when you are able. We want to repay you with whatever we can spare.”

The three of them nodded and then continued on to the chapel. When they got closer, Opaline looked around to make sure no one was watching. When she was satisfied, she transformed into the paladin she had become the prior evening.

They entered the chapel, but no one seemed to be there.

“Maybe he’s in the cellar.” Lyriel smirked and she and Opaline shared a laugh.

Their joke was well founded because as they descended into the basement of the building, they discovered that the priest was down there setting up his office in the newly sanctified area. He turned to face them, clasping his hands together.

“It is you, the envoys of Bahamut! Bless you!” He took the paladin’s hand and kissed it.

The paladin grinned, “Please, call me Noric. We have come because we do not want to leave this town helpless.” He paused and then added, “And even holy envoys need money for food and shelter on their path towards justice.”

The priest frowned slightly. “Well, the chapel has already given you all we have.” Noric began to turn away and the priest reached desperately for him. “But! Perhaps I could offer you some of my own coin if you could eliminate the entire gnoll camp.”

Noric grinned and turned to face the priest. “We’re listening.”

The priest straightened and smoothed his robes. “The gnolls always come from the forest in the west. They must have a camp there. They are known for driving merchants off of the road. Sometimes they don’t even leave bodies behind. Only the gods know what those animals do with them.”

Lyriel cleared her throat and stepped forward. “In my travels, I have heard that gnolls take pleasure in dominating their conquered victims as slaves. They beat them down to nothing till they forget even themselves and then indoctrinate them with their own beliefs. It is a savage process.”

The priest shook his head. “You must go and kill every last one of them.”

“And?” Remgull grunted.

“Only then will you be repaid with our true gratitude and,” he added reluctantly, “our coin.”

Noric crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. “We accept your quest.”

The priest up a finger. “But you must bring me proof of their demise.”

Lyriel looked grim. “If what I know is correct, the gnolls will be the least of your problems in the long run. They may be dangerous on their own, but generally they act as mere underlings of a more powerful master.”

The priest considered this and then added, “Look into this matter and bring me whatever evidence you can find.”

Noric removed his gauntlets and cracked his knuckles. “If we are to take on this quest in the name of Lowood, you must supply us with whatever you can muster to help us on our way.”

The priest gave the paladin a stern look, but then reached into the folds of his black robe and retrieved two glass vials containing syrupy red liquid. “These are restorative potions that heal injuries. They may be of use to you in the heat of battle.”

Lyriel took the potions from him and attached them to her belt. “Blessed be Bahamut.” She smiled and tugged on Noric’s tabard. “Time to stop by the blacksmith and pick up some weapons.”

Noric bowed to the priest and led them up from the cellar and out of the chapel. They walked through the snowfall towards the sound of a hammer smashing against an anvil. As they rounded a corner and left the view of onlooking villagers, Opaline took on her elven form again.

The blacksmith’s shop appeared through the haze of white snow and they saw the orange glow of hot embers through the window. Black smoke rose from the chimney.

The young boy, Jason, burst out of the door and ran up to Remgull, almost knocking him off balance. “You came, you came!”

He led Remgull by the three-fingered hand all the way into the smithery. The heat alone was staggering. As Lyriel entered the building, she couldn’t help but look up and take in all the weapons hanging from the rafters and the racks on the walls. There were maces, swords, daggers, and even a few wooden staves. Along the back wall hung different types of simple armor.

A great big man in black leathers stood over a small forge, pumping the bellows steadily.

The boy let go of Remgull and ran to his father. “Look, father! The one who saved me and mother.

The blacksmith stopped working and turned to face them with open arms. “Welcome, friends. I’m Daniel.”

Lyriel picked up a dagger and twirled it in her hand. “With such fine wares, I’m surprised you haven’t outfitted the entire village for battle.”

Daniel shook his head. “Fine wares? No, these are but the crude works of a humble man trying to make a living from peaceful people do not desire armor or weapons in the first pace.” He chuckled to himself. “But perhaps fine warriors like yourselves could find a use for my handiwork.”

Lyriel nodded, “Indeed. This very day we have been tasked with hunting down the gnoll camp and eliminating their threat to Lowood.”

Tana’s eyes saddened. “That is a dangerous undertaking and we will pray for your safe return.

Opaline was already perusing the staves. “You don’t have any magical items, do you?”

Daniel shook his head. “I’m a simple blacksmith. I don’t have any gift for enchantments.”

Opaline sighed and picked up a simple dagger. “How much for this?”

Daniel stepped forward and threw his arms around Remgull. “For our son’s savior, free. For the other envoys of Bahamut, a significant discount.” He winked and led Remgull over to the forge, quietly chatting to him.

Lyriel selected a small hand crossbow and a dagger for herself and took them to Tana who was seated beside a table full of scrolls and boxes for different types of coin. Lyriel paid for her weapons and thanked the woman. Opaline bought her dagger and both turned to watch what Remgull had decided on.

What they witnessed, filled them with awe. Daniel was holding down Remgull’s left arm as the warforged began to disassemble it before their eyes. He pried off the plate on his forearm, the bolts clattering onto the anvil. He then proceeded to tinker with his insides, grunting as he pulled at tubes flowing with silver liquid.

Jason arrived at his father’s side with another hand crossbow and began taking it apart. One by one, he handed the parts to his father who put them into Remgull’s outstretched wooden palm. Remgull fussed with them until they clicked into place and then he began bolting them down. By the time he was done, his hands were covered in his silvery life force. Last, Daniel handed him a new iron plate to cover his arm and they fit it into place.

When he was finished tinkering, Remgull made a fist with his left hand and flicked his wrist down. When he did this, there was a buzz of metalwork inside of him and the crossbow’s lathes popped out of the sides of his arm, pulling the weapon’s string taught. With a few clicks, the string was drawn back and a bolt slid into place. He swung and aimed at a place on the wall just above Lyriel’s head and tightened his fist in three pulses, sending three bolts out of his arm in rapid succession.

Lyriel ducked and looked up at the wall where the three bolts were still vibrating. “Looks like he’s still got a bit of ranger left in him after all.” She swallowed hard.

Daniel clapped Remgull on the back. “Incredible! I have only heard of your kind in stories about the great war, but to see you at work in person is truly an honor.”

On her back, Lyriel had a prime view of the armor on the wall. “Ooo! Chainmail!”

The blacksmith nodded. “I have a few items, but I’m not sure I have anything that will fit one so small. However, I could make something if I had the right material. I’ll need some mithril bars in order to craft it though.”

Lyriel nodded. “Can I purchase some here in Lowood?”

Daniel shook his head. “Sadly we rarely get supplies out here. Merchants are hesitant to pass through the western wood for fear of being attacked by the gnolls.”

Opaline shrugged, “Perhaps we’ll be able to find some at the camp.”

Lyriel nodded. “We’ll be on the lookout. Thank you for your help!”

Remgull started towards the door.

Lyriel frowned. “Thank the man! He helped you and asked nothing in return.”

Remgull headed out the door without response. Opaline nodded her thanks and followed him.

Daniel ruffled Lyriel’s hair, and patted her shoulder. “Off you go. Fight well, little bard.”

Lyriel smiled at him and then followed the others out into the snow. “Wait!” She ran up in front of Remgull. “What’s the matter with you anyways?”

Remgull did not seem to hear her.

Opaline called after him. “Stop, Remgull!”

The construct stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her.

“We do our job. Then we come back and get money. We go now?” He crossed his arms and waited for Opaline to respond.

Lyriel marched right up to him, craning her neck so that she could see all the way up to his head. “You can’t treat people like that! They were thanking you for what you did and you threw it back in their faces. I have a good reputation in Lowood. We’re relying on everyone in this town for supplies and word will get around if-”

Before she could finish, Remgull reached down with both and lifted her off the ground to bring her face to face with him. “I do what I want. When I want. Mind your own business.”

Surprised at being manhandled in such a fashion, Lyriel struggled to get free and spat in his face. “No. You do what Opaline wants whenever she wants.”

Remgull’s eyes flashed bright scarlet in anger. “SHUT YOUR TINY MOUTH OR I’LL SHUT IT WITH MY FIST!” The metal behemoth drew his right fist back menacingly, leaving her dangling from one of his hands.

Terrified, Lyriel kicked at him and shielded her face with her hands only to be tossed into a nearby snowdrift. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again!” She got to her feet, brushing off the snow with a shiver. The gnome looked to Opaline for support, but was only greeted with a shrug as the two of them continued on ahead of her. Lyriel held back tears of anger, not wanting to give Remgull the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable.

“Remgull, go fetch us some horses.” No sooner had she spoken then the ornery suit of armor stalked off in the direction of the village stables.

By the time Lyriel and Opaline caught up to him, he had secured them the use of two horses for their mission and a few blankets to keep them warm on the journey.

Lyriel hopped up on a bay mare and Opaline climbed up behind her. Remgull chose an old grey stallion with white around his muzzle. The stable master wished them a safe journey and they were on their way out of town and riding towards the western wood.

As they rode along, Opaline tried to converse with Remgull. “So, what are you, anyway? Some sort of enchanted suit of armor?”

“No.”

Lyriel and Opaline waited to see if he would elaborate. He did not.

“Well?” Opaline giggled, resting her head on Lyriel, who sat snuggled in front of her.

The warforged continued riding and led them into the woods. The trees were so thick that very little sunlight streamed down through the leaves.

Opaline rolled her eyes. “I command you to tell me what you are.”

The construct grunted. “I am living. This metal is my flesh just as your skin is yours. My soul is bound to me by arcane engineering. Comprehending this type of magic allows me to understand the pathways of the arcane energy that binds us to this earth. It gives me the power to build and to destroy.”

Lyriel perked up. “You’re an artificer! I’ve heard of them. Those bottles and vials must be your… infusions, right?”

The construct’s joints hissed as he nodded wordlessly.

Lyriel looked up at Opaline. “He can trap arcane healing energy in those vials for use in the heat of battle. Some even say that more powerful artificers can rip apart the very fabric of our world.”

Opaline listened with interest, clucking to their horse with encouragement. She shivered. “It’s cold.”

“It’s winter,” Remgull responded shortly.

“Now I know you’re a mage or a sorceress of some kind.” Lyriel gently poked Opaline in the ribs with her elbow.

“A celestial sorceress. I was born with the blood of dragons and starfire coursing through my veins.” Opaline gazed up towards the heavens.

Lyriel took out her lyre and began plucking lazily at the stings. “Ah, you can hear the music of the spheres. I’ve often wished that I could hear their song. Sometimes I feel that if I’m still, and I listen very carefully-”

“Do you EVER shut up?” Remgull roared.

Opaline could feel the small gnome withdraw into the shelter of her arms. The changeling pulled back on the reins, letting Remgull get a few horse lengths ahead of them.

Lyriel muttered quietly. “I suppose he’s never travelled with a bard before.”

Opaline shrugged, “Even if I had I wouldn’t remember it. Are you a talkative bunch?”

Lyriel laughed huskily. “You could say that. We’re story tellers and wanderers by trade, but some, like myself, take it even further. There’s magic woven into performance and all types of art. We learn to harness its arcane power and use its grip on our audience to help or harm, depending on the situation.”

Opaline scoffed at her. “So when faced with a fearsome foe, you sing a little ditty?”

Lyriel shrugged. “Well sort of. That and I have the power to turn my enemy’s fears and doubts against them until their brains explode.” Lyriel smiled to herself. “That can be fun, too.”

Ahead of them, Remgull pulled his horse up short and put up his hand. “Listen.”

Opaline and Lyriel rode up beside him in silence. The sound of distant yips, howls, and barks filtered through the trees. They could also hear the steady beat of drums.

Remgull got down off of his horse. “We are close.”

Opaline helped Lyriel down from their horse and then tied both of the animals to a nearby tree. By the time she turned around, Remgull was already charging through the forest towards the source of the sounds and Lyriel was jogging after him.

“Remgull wait!” Lyriel hissed at him. “There could be too many of them! Let’s make a plan.” She waited for him to stop, but he continued on.

“Remgull doesn’t plan. Remgull acts,” he snorted under his breath.

Lyriel grabbed the nearest rock she could find and hurled it at the back of Remgull’s head. It hit him with a loud clunk. “Are you trying to get us killed? Stop and think for a moment.”

Remgull immediately turned on her, grabbing her blonde tuft of hair and lifting her off the ground. “Thinking is for the dead. Do you want to be dead?”

No sooner had he done this than Lyriel grabbed her dagger and sank it into his forearm. “I have suffered your manhandling for the last time.”

Remgull groaned as the dagger pierced his metallic flesh and let her drop to the ground.

Lyriel brandished her dagger at him. “You think me but low and little, but I am fierce of heart and you will respect my person, you ignorant bucket of bolts!”

Remgull drew his sword and advanced on her prone body, but before he could attack, Opaline grabbed his arm. “Be civil. You’re both going to get us caught if you go on like this. Remgull, you will restrain yourself from asserting your power over our companion by brute strength and Lyriel, you’d do best to stop aggravating him so.”

Lyriel growled. “I will not be judged by my size, madame. I assure you it is not my defining characteristic.” She tossed the dagger up into the air, letting it spin a few times ,and then snatched it back for emphasis.

Opaline rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then let us be judged on the battlefield. What plan would you have us execute?”

Lyriel wiped Remgull’s silver blood from her dagger on the side of her breaches. “Gnolls are curious foes. They are tribal in nature and not very advanced in weaponry, though what they lack in civilized culture, they make up for in savage ferocity. Should there be any captives here, their minds could be so changed that they may be beyond help. Our main trouble will lie with their greater numbers.”

“Let them come. I shall rip them apart.” Remgull gave his sword a twist for emphasis.

Opaline smoothed his arm with her hand. “Down boy. If there is a whole pack of them, it would seem that we require a good distraction.”

Lyriel nodded. “Exactly, but what can we do to distract them?”

Opaline laughed derisively. “Please.” As her laughter continued it morphed into the unsettling cackle of a gnoll. Her skin bristled with black fur, her facial features outlined in silver. Upon her right shoulder was a moon shaped spot. “Tada.” Opaline turned in a circle modeling her new gnoll visage.

Lyriel watched in wonder. “Sahenine has certainly blessed you with the gift of illusion. Goddess be praised.”

Opaline fluffed her tail and stepped out of her clothes which were now far to large for her. She picked them up and shoved them into Remgull’s satchel, which he didn’t seem to object to. She tore two strips of cloth from the bottom of her cloak with her claws and then tied them crudely around her private parts. Her voice was rough and gravelly when she spoke in this form. “Come on, slow pokes.”

Opaline barked merrily and motioned for them to follow as she lead them deeper into the woods towards the beckoning sounds of the gnoll camp.

Chapter 2: Gnolls

05 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, acrobatics, artificer, athletics, Bahamut, bard, blog, campaign, changeling, chapter, combat, d&d, d20, dnd, dungeons and dragons, epic fail, fantasy, gnoll, gnolls, gnome, hyena, hyenas, novel, role playing game, rooftop, skill challenge, song of the bard, sorcerer, story, tabletop rpg, warforged

No sooner had the warning been issued than the comfort of the tavern became complete chaos. Suddenly an arrow whistled through the air and the man at the door fell flat on his face. An arrow stuck out from between his shoulder blades. A few women shrieked and ran for the sides of the room, not knowing where to go.

Opaline jumped to her feet, her body suddenly outlined with blazing sunlight. “We’re sitting ducks in here!”

The barkeep flipped open the counter and bellowed, “Through the larder, quickly! Get to the chapel!” He began ushering people behind the bar and through a trap door, but the crowd was too large and they soon bottle-necked, pushing and shoving frantically as terror took hold of them.

Harsh laughter cut through the air and echoed even above the shouting and bedlam of the villagers trying to escape the tavern. Remgull and Opaline looked instinctively to Lyriel.

Lyriel looked up at them. “Nope. Not me.”

No sooner had the gnome spoken, than two giant hyenas bounded through the tavern door. Behind them came a gnoll, who looked like humanoid hyena with a bad hair day. His fur was mottled brown with white spots and chunks of it were missing all over his body. He wore a shredded lambskin loincloth with large leather shoulder pads and armbands. The gnoll carried a crude bow which he knocked with a black arrow. He let out a series of unintelligible commands in common tongue and the hyenas went hurtling through the air towards the remaining villagers who had not been able to make their escape through the trap door yet.

Lyriel looked on in horror as the hyenas leapt upon their prey, ripping flesh to ribbons with their claws and pulling the villagers apart with their teeth. As a small boy was stolen from his mother’s embrace, one hyena ripped his arms from his body, creating an arc of blood that splattered across Lyriel, Remgull, and Opaline. An arrow zipped from the bow and landed square between the mother’s eyes. The first flurry of attacks left five already dead or dying as they gasped and choked on their own blood.

The gnome rubbed the sanguine liquid from her eyes, her jaw setting. “Protect the villagers!”

“Already on it!” The words came from somewhere inside Opaline’s shining mass. Lyriel could just make out her fingers as they became covered in starlight.

Opaline flicked her wrist and a fan of glittering stars flew out of her hand, soaring through the air. They landed on top of the closest hyena and formed a web over his body. His fur began to smoke as they dug into his flesh.

Remgull wasted no time as he charged the other hyena. His heavy steps reverberated through the floor as he ran. When he reached his target, his frame exploded with electricity and the hyena flew backwards into a nearby table.

As Remgull ran by, the hyena who was trapped in the cage of stars attempted to run after him, nipping at his heels. This proved to be a bad choice because as he attempted to run, the stars tightened around his body and seared into his flesh. Burning fur and singed hide dropped to the floor. Still he persisted and what was left of him jumped on Remgull’s back, digging his teeth into Remgull’s armored flesh. Silver liquid began to leak from the wound.

Watching this, Lyriel pointed and laughed at the newly hairless hyena. They hyena turned, letting go of Remgull, and faced her with a snarl. Lyriel was now pointing with both hands. “Hey you! You’re naked!”

As her second finger descended and pointed at him, the hyena stopped, did a circle trying to get a good look at itself, and went crosseyed. It whimpered and promptly dropped dead in a bloody heap.

As Lyriel jumped up and down in celebration, she caught an arrow in her right bicep and staggered backwards.

The gnoll stomped towards her, knocking another arrow and letting out a fierce echoing cackle of high pitched laughter.

Lyriel narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you got?” She pulled the arrow from her arm and let the pain that followed fuel her voice in a mocking strain of laughter that sent the gnoll reeling backwards, clutching his head.

Opaline flung out her arms and two star cages descended on the gnoll and the remaining hyena. Both reeled in pain. “Step back Remgull!”

The warforged shook himself free of the hyena he was battling just as the mass of stars wrapped itself around the beast. He took a few steps backwards and the hyena followed, gnashing its teeth as the cage ripped at his flesh. With a single bound it charged through the air over Remgull’s shoulder and landed in front of Opaline. As it got close to her, it yowled in pain. The golden light that encased her seemed to lash out at him and suddenly his whole body caught fire. Despite his own immolation, the beast continued to claw at the elf, sinking its fangs into her calf.

With a great guttural yell, Remgull drew his sword and slammed it down on the animal’s hindquarters, sinking it deep into the meat of his buttocks. The beast let go of Opaline’s leg and fell to the floor in a burning heap.

Lyriel grinned and giggled to herself, winking to the remaining gnoll who was trapped in his own prison of burning starlight. “All that, just to get killed by a sword to the arse. Now that’s funny!” As she winked, the gnoll howled in pain and clamped his hand to his forehead.

“Playing with brains is fu-” The bard yelped as another arrow hit her square in the shoulder.

“Never let down your guard!” Remgull slammed the hilt of his sword into the side of the gnoll’s head with a small explosion of electricity that knocked him to the ground. As the gnoll fell, his flesh was torn by the stars that were holding him in place. When he hit the floor, he writhed in a mass of blood and agony, his body flashing with electricity.

Remgull wasted no time in furrowing his blade deep within the gnoll’s chest, twisting until he stopped moving. The warforged immediately began to rifle through the belongings and entrails of the slain, both foe and villagers.

Opaline watched horrified as Lyriel joined him. She came across a yo-yo in what was left of the young boy’s hand. She pulled it carefully from his fingers and began to wind it up.

“This won’t be worth much, but it’ll be good for some fun!” She turned to show the others and found herself face to face with the dead boy. He was standing before her covered in his own gore and holding out an outstretched hand. Lyriel gulped and held out the yo-yo, placing it in his palm. Speechless, she rubbed at her eyes. When she opened them again, she only saw Opaline walking towards Remgull and shoving him towards the door before he could try to loot the corpses of the villagers as well.

“Get up! There could be more of them,” She scowled at his blatant disrespect for the dead.

“Nothing worth taking.” Remgull’s joints purred and hissed as they walked out the door.

Lyriel hummed a short musical refrain and a series of golden musical notes appeared and wrapped themselves around her wounds before dissolving into her flesh and healing them. She jogged out into the cold after her new comrades.

When she got outside, Lyriel stopped just short of running into Remgull. He and Opaline had stopped to survey the town. The house just outside The Drunken Pony had been set aflame. From inside they could hear screams of terror and the support beams of the house crashing to the floor. Without warning, Remgull charged the door. It was locked form the inside. He quickly smashed the hinges and pulled the door off of the frame, tossing it away.

“Wait!” Opaline yelled. “The whole house could collapse on top of you!”

Remgull didn’t hear or didn’t care because he charged inside. The whole building was blazing and the heat was near unbearable, but sweat and discomfort weren’t things that plagued the magical construct.

A woman was stuck in the middle of the floor. Her face was covered in soot and she was trying to get to a door that had already been set aflame. A support beam had fallen in front of it so that it could not be reached or opened. “My son! My son is stuck in that room!”

“Get outside!” Remgull bellowed.

“But my son!” She protested.

“Go!” Remgull hefted the large beam out of the way and threw it aside. It erupted in sparks and embers. The wooden joints of his fingers caught flame and he frantically snuffed them out with his cloak.

Remgull quickly set about removing the second door from its hinges. Once done, he found that it lead to the larder. Amongst the hanging meats and stored vittles, a young boy lay on the ground sobbing with his head in his hands.

“The gnolls are coming… Lock the door…” The boy cried as he looked up at the warforged.

“I’ll get you out!” Remgull extended his arms to pick up the boy.

The boy’s eyes were filled with both wonder and fear, but he reached out and grabbed the construct’s arms. As soon as he did, the boy recoiled, screaming in pain. Remgull looked down at his metal arms and realized what had happened. They were burning almost red hot. He quickly took his cloak and wrapped it around his arms, allowing him to carry the boy.

A few moments later, he emerged into the snow, letting the boy run to his mother.

“He’s burned.” Remgull told her. “His hands.”

Lyriel quickly picked up snow and began to pack it tightly around the boy’s wounds. “You’ll be all right.” She offered a smile and ruffled his hair.

“Thank you! May Bahamut bless you!” The sobbing woman took the boy in her arms.

Suddenly a sharp cackle cut through the air. Opaline caught sight of a lump of snow falling from a nearby rooftop. “We’re not alone,” she warned.

“More gnolls.” Remgull grunted.

“How many, do you think?” Lyriel pondered, looking at all the snow covered rooftops around them.

The ash covered woman looked up at them. “They come in small groups. They raid Lowood and other nearby villages for supplies and coin. We’re no match for them…” She sobbed uncontrollably and held her son to her chest.

“Says you.” Opaline grinned and dashed towards the rooftop that had been the source of the laughter. She launched herself up the wall and onto the roof.

“Hey, wait up!” Lyriel bounded after her and attempted the same leap. However, she found that being small came with certain disadvantages and merely smacked herself into the side of the house, unable to reach a good foothold. “Ow.”

For the first time, Remgull laughed. It was the most hollow and mirthless laughter the world had ever known.

Atop the roof, Opaline surveyed the scene. At first all she saw was snow, but then she noted the tracks running along the ridge of the house. “This way!”

“Ahem! A little help here!” Lyriel kicked the side of the house and another clump of snow sloughed off the side of the house and landed on her.

Opaline knelt down and offered the gnome a hand. “Remgull, take the others to the chapel. Then come find us!”

Remgull stalked off towards the chapel and Lyriel took Opaline’s hand, scrambling up onto the roof.

The gnome and the elf studied the tracks and began following them, carefully balancing as they went. They jumped from roof to roof, but soon lost their way. They heard laughter again, but could not see its source. They could only determine its direction. They both locked eyes and spoke together.

“The Chapel!”

They took off at once, moving as quickly as they could without risking falling.

“Remgull,” Lyriel shouted. “It’s coming for you!”

“Remgull, RUN!” Opaline called after her.

As they leapt onto a roof nearer the chapel, the could see Remgull escorting the woman and her son down the road. He was looking around frantically for oncoming attackers.

Lyriel heard the creak of a bow string being drawn and grabbed Opaline’s gown, tugging on it. “There!”

On the edge of the next rooftop was a large gnoll, his black fur tinged with gray. He wore ripped leather arse-less chaps that were hung with bones and all manner of crude charms that clacked together when he moved. He also wore a dented chest plate and shoulder plates. He turned to face them. When he did, they could see that he had a crude patch over one eye.

“Your butt’s showing!” Lyriel grinned and jumped around to shake her behind at the gnoll, but her mockery seemed to have no affect on the its countenance. She turned and noted this. “Tough crowd…” An arrow whizzed past her head, cutting through her tuft of blonde hair. She glared. “Hey, watch the hair!”

“Enough fooling around!” Opaline shouted as an ice lance shot out of her hand, hitting the creature in the gut. He doubled over in pain.

Lyriel planted her feet firmly on the roof, digging them into the snow. She made her small hands into fists and took a deep breath. When she opened her mouth, a rumbling yell careened from her lips. The sound of thunder rippled out and knocked the gnoll clean off the side of the roof.

Remgull saw the gnoll falling and advanced on it at once. He grabbed the spiked wire on his belt and threw it at the creature. It hooked into his flesh as he fell and the weight at the end of the wire caused it to wrap around him, digging into his fur before he even hit the ground. When he landed, he growled and barked in pain.

Opaline jumped off the side of the roof and landed hard on the ground a bit off balance, but even through her pain she cast a cage of burning starlight around the gnoll. Once her spell was released, she grimaced and grabbed her ankle, now succumbing to the pain. Lyriel leapt down lightly behind her.

The gnoll was determined to escape his bonds, but as he attempted this, he left tufts of fur and chunks of flesh and blood on the snow. His bloodied body glittered with burning stars and the wire cut deeply into him. He shut his eye tightly in frustration when he could not even manage to get to his feet.

When he opened it, all the gnoll saw was Lyriel standing above him, tossing a snowball in her hand. “Not laughing now, are ya?” She drew her arm back and slammed the snow ball down the creature’s throat. It coughed and sputtered, choking on blood and snow until it stopped moving all together. Just to make sure it was dead, the bard removed her dagger and slit its throat.

Opaline carefully got to her feet, limping a little. “Where’s the mother and her child?”

Remgull turned to look behind him, catching site of the mother as she entered the chapel and closed the door behind her. “The chapel.”

The chapel looked completely different now. Inside, candles were burning and illuminating the stained glass windows. Opaline could now see the platinum dragons outlined and fully realized, with beautiful golden filigree framing them.

“Who do they pray to?” Opaline asked the bard.

Lyriel motioned to the chapel. “They’re followers of Bahamut, a platinum dragon and a god of justice, protection, nobility, and honor. It is believed by even the metallic dragons themselves that he was the first of their kind. Palladins are among their worshippers, though you won’t find any in Lowood. They are simple people who hope for a better future and for the god to protect what little they have.”

Opaline nodded, her interest piqued. “We should go in and tell them that the threat has been eliminated.”

Remgull shook his head. “Not before we make sure it has. Must check the perimeter.”

The three of them walked through the streets, but there was no sign of any remaining gnolls. Lyriel found her floating disc which caught on the side of the building she and Opaline had scaled. It had gotten stuck trying to float up after her. When they circled back around to the chapel, it seemed that everything was a silent as it had been before the attack. Satisfied, they all returned to the chapel. As they got closer, they could see poles were driven into the snowy ground and hung with banners sporting the platinum dragon on them. They gently blew from side to side as they stepped inside the chapel.

The priest was standing before the altar, trying to quiet the bedlam of the villagers who were screaming and hollering over one another.

“We’ll never be free!”

“Lowood is cursed!”

“Bahamut has forsaken us!”

“Blasphemer!”

The priest put up his hands. “SILENCE ALL!”

The villagers obeyed, but did not sit down in the pews. All remained standing and waited for his words.

The priest cleared his throat. “Bahamut is testing our faith in him! We must dedicate our lives to his name. All must follow his commandments and obey the church!”

Remgull shouted from the back of the hall. “Gods do not make your destiny.”

Lyriel jumped on her disc for added height and floated up beside him. “You must learn to stand and fight or there will be none of you left! Take up arms!”

The villagers erupted in shouts and yells again.

“We are not warriors!”

“We cannot put swords in the hands of children and old women!”

“They’re right! We can’t lay on our backs and be picked off one by one!”

The priest yelled over the crowd. “To take up arms and fight is to deny Bahamut’s power. It is he alone that can protect us! If we fight the gnolls ourselves, we are telling him that we do not trust in him to save us.”

This only caused more commotion as the villagers began shouting and arguing with one another.

Lyriel shook her head, looking back at Opaline with sadness in her eyes. “How can he say these things? These people are depending on him for guidance and he’s going to get them killed.”

Opaline bit her lip. “The issue is faith. Their faith is broken.”

Remgull stomped his foot. “It is not our job to prove that their god cares for them.”

Lyriel frowned. “Perhaps if their faith was restored, they would have the will to stand and fight themselves.”

Opaline’s eyes lit up. “Lyriel, what do the paladins that follow Bahamut look like?”

Lyriel shrugged. “They wear suits of silver armor with gold along the edges. Their tabards are blue with a silver dragon in the center, like the banners outside. Sometimes they carry shields with the same symbol.”

Opaline smiled. “I bet these people have never even seen a paladin. Stay here! I’ll be right back!” With that, Opaline walked out the door.

Lyriel furrowed her brow. “Okay then…”

Before Remgull could voice his opinion, the door to the chapel burst open and snow flew inside. A tall, broad shouldered man wearing a worn chestplate, shoulder guards, and black leather breeches marched inside. He also wore tabard with the symbol of the platinum dragon embroidered on it. He was breathtakingly attractive with a square jaw and blond curls. Everyone turned back towards the chapel door to face him. The priest dropped to his knees.

The paladin spoke with a booming voice. “Good people of Lowood! Bahamut sends his blessings!”

The villagers dropped to their knees as well.

“Praise be to Bahamut! He has heard us!” One villager shouted and others followed suit.

The paladin cleared his throat. “Indeed. The great platinum dragon has heard your cries and seen your plight. These people have saved you and acted in his name!” The paladin motioned to Lyriel and Remgull.

A few villagers looked up from the ground, taking note of the gnome and the warforged, who looked just about as amazed as them.

The paladin grinned and approached the pulpit. He climbed it and put his hands on railing. “Bahamut not only intends to protect you, but he asks that you protect yourselves in his name. He knows of your struggles and that you have many who are too young to fight or too old to stand in battle. Fear not! For they will be protected in this very chapel. Bellow this place of worship there is…” The paladin faltered for a moment and then raised his hand with his finger pointed. “A cellar! Yes! I say unto you, you will learn to stand watch around the edges of the town and ring an alarm when attackers are spotted. When you hear the alarm, you must retreat to the cellar.”

The priest wailed. “Praise be to Bahamut! He has given us a sacred cellar!”

Lyriel raised a brow, speaking to Remgull under her breath. “Wasn’t there always a cellar?”

None of the villagers heard her because they were all too busy yelling, “Praise be the cellar, sacred gift of Bahamut!”

The paladin pounded on the pulpit with a gallant smile. “Exactly! When all hope is lost, REMEMBER THE CELLAR!”

There was a great cheer as the armor clad messenger descended the pulpit. The priest moved to the altar and retrieved the offering box, which he shoved into the paladin’s hands with tearful eyes. The paladin took the box graciously and patted him on the head before walking down to aisle towards Lyriel and Remgull.

Lyriel wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw the paladin’s hips moving gracefully from side to side in a slightly feminine manner.

“Come, my holy comrades!” The paladin grabbed Lyriel by her shoulder, pushing her along on her disc, and ushered Remgull ouside.

The door slammed shut behind them and they were once again standing in silent snowfall. Lyriel blinked as she noticed that the banner on the left side of the door was missing.

When they had put some distance between themselves and the chapel, the paladin stopped and chuckled. “Ha. The cellar. Classic.”

Lyriel bent her knees, pulling her disc up short beside him. “Who are you?”

“It’s me! Opaline.” As he spoke, his voice transformed into the sweet dulcet tones of the elf and his flesh began to change. He shrank, thinned out, and suddenly there stood Opaline, their female elven ally. She was dwarfed inside of the armor which, upon closer inspection, had been fashioned out of the dead gnoll’s vestiments and the banner from beside the chapel door.

Lyriel blinked. “I’ve heard of powerful bards than can change the appearance of themselves and others through illusion, but our magic doesn’t look like yours. When you pulled me out of there, I would have known if it was an illusion. You… were that man.” The gnome’s eyes darted over the form of the elf as her brain worked out the answer. “There’s only one kind of creature that can perform true transformation. You’re a-”

Opaline lowered her head. “Changeling.” As she spoke, her form shifted again. She became even more slender, her collar bones less fleshy and her fingers longer and thinner. Her skin faded to a light gray except for the parts around her eyes, which became a dark black, causing her newly silver eyes to stand out in stark contrast. Her vine hair became light pink starting at the roots and flowing out to the very ends, which unraveled from their braids and fell over her shoulders in a thick mass.

Lyriel looked at her in wonder. “Changelings were the instruments of subterfuge and deception during the great war… None have been seen in these parts since. Why have you come here? Who are you?”

Opaline closed her eyes. “We may have been any number of things, but the fact is, I don’t know who I am. I woke with no memory of anything but the identity you spoke of in the dream. Opaline.”

Remgull spoke gruffly, the words echoing inside of his armor. “I, too, was brought into this world with only my identity.”

Lyriel pursed her lips. “I’m not sure if I should trust you based on what I know of your kind, but I do know that actions of many should not fall upon the shoulders of one.” She smiled hopefully. “Especially one who has fought beside me in battle and restored faith to those who were so lost.”

Remgull grabbed the offering box from Opaline and started counting the money inside. “And for a significant profit.”

The bard extended her hand. “I trust you, Opaline.”

The changeling smiled and took her hand. “Good.” She turned to the construct. “Remgull?”

“17, 18, 19… 20, 21…” He busied himself counting the coin in the box and didn’t seem to be paying them any mind.

“He seems fine with it.” Lyriel shrugged. “Come. I have a room at the tavern. You both can stay with me tonight.”

Chapter 1: Winter Song

03 Apr 2011 Leave a Comment

by bardicknowlege in Uncategorized Tags: a bard's tale, artificer, bard, beginning, blog, changeling, d&d, d20, dnd, dungeons and dragons, fantasy, first chapter, gnoll, gnolls, gnome, novel, role playing game, song of the bard, sorcerer, start, story, tabletop rpg, warforged

The moonlit clearing was covered in untouched snow, save for a few footprints leading to tree trunk upon which a young elven maiden sat, her fingers twisted into her cloak, pulling it snug around her slender body for warmth.

This was no common elf. Her skin shown with a pearlescent luster and her hair was quite extraordinary, because in point of fact, it was not hair at all. Instead tendrils of vines grew from her scalp and were wound into knots and woven into braids atop her head. The vines bloomed with pink and lavender flowers. From afar it would look like they were simply garlands woven into her hair, but her countenance was both shocking and mesmerizing upon closer inspection. She had the look of one touched by the fey.

As for the woods, they were silent. Soft white flakes floated down from the sky and glinted as the moonbeams caressed them. The elf watched this process carefully, only to be caught off-guard by the sound of snow crunching beneath heavy feet.

She got up, her fingers twitching in the folds of her cloak just as the huge armored construct stepped into the light. His hulking body was covered in metal plates which were bound into form by large bolts. He looked like a giant silver suit of armor moving of its own accord. Instead of a helmet, he had a mechanical head, its expressions articulated by pieces of metal pounded and formed into the shape of humanoid features. Each hand had three fingers, each carefully jointed with wood for flexibility and ease of motion. Along the edges of his armored plates, there was a smattering of green patina and rust. Around his waist was a large belt hung with spiked wire, flasks of mysterious colored liquid, and various tools. He had a large green cloak slung around his shoulders and a satchel that hung across his chest. His wooden joints creaked into place as he stood on the edge of the clearing across from her.

The elven lass held up her hands, her nimble fingers curling towards the construct as the outline of her body rippled with golden arcane light. Her posture issued warning and he took note, not advancing any further. Her fingertips flared with magic, glittering starlight outlining each one. “Name yourself.”

After a whir of cogs, a rumbling voice echoed from inside of the armored construct. “Designation… Milner.”

The young elf looked puzzled, her hands lowering slowly. The warforged seemed to be using all of his effort to form his words. His body was completely still save for the cogs, wheels, and springs that she knew were inside of him somewhere, which must have been cranking away furiously. She spoke in starts as she tried to understand him, her keen eyes looking over every part of him in a studious manner. “Designate? What does-Your name is Milner?”

The warforged grunted and moved forward into the light with a single heavy step. The moonlight caught his shoulder and as the elf approached him, she could see a rune etched into his armored skin. Printed across it in bold text was the name, “Milner.” She carefully extended her hand to trace the symbol. It was a triangle with a few curling lines interwoven across it, and not anything she recognized. She was startled by the deep and hollow voice that broke the silence.

“For Friends. Designation… Name is. Remgull.”

The elf smiled despite herself at hearing the large construct speak the word “friend” with the least amount of warmth he could muster.

“Well Remgull. I’m Opaline. I can be your friend.” She interlaced her fingers behind her back, her eyes glittering up at him in the moonlight.

Remgull grunted. “Why so small and alone here?”

Opaline pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “I’m hardly helpless, but I am alone and, I’ll grant you, smaller than you are.” She bit her lip, considering him again, and continued. “Well, nothing risked, nothing gained, I always say. It would seem that I’ve lost my memory and I’m trying to get my bearings. I was going to head to town if you’d like to accompany me?” She waved her hand, indicating the direction she intended to travel.

Remgull nodded and began walking.

Opaline walked briskly after him. “I’ll take that as ‘Yes, Opaline. I’d love to travel with you.’” She caught up to him and kept pace. Her feet left dainty prints whilst his left great gaping holes in the deep snow. As they reached the edge of the woods they could see firelight peaking through the trees. “I hear this settlement is called Lowood. It’s a small place, but there should be a room to sleep for the night and perhaps we could find some jobs that need doing. I don’t have much coin myself.”

Remgull didn’t respond vocally but his hand patted a purse on his belt.

“We’re almost there,” Opaline said as she picked up the pace, pushing aside the branches in her way. Remgull ushered her towards a small trail on their right and they began to follow it towards the lights.

They emerged from the forest and the trail became an overgrown path. It would seem that the villagers made no effort to cross through the woods. The two of them trudged through the snow and entered the village. The buildings were only one floor and most seemed to be residential. The largest building they passed was a chapel with a single spire. Though there was no light within, Opaline could just make out the shape of a dragon in the stained glass windows.

The lights they had seen from the forest were coming from a large building in the center of the town. The road led right to it and the closer they got, the more well-traveled it looked. The whole structure was askew and leaning to one side. It didn’t look as if anyone had made much effort to repair it. Despite its dilapidated appearance, the fires were blazing brightly within and, as the two unlikely comrades approached, they could hear the sound of music and clapping emanating from within. The sign hanging above the door creaked as it swung back and forth in the snowy breeze. It read: “The Drunken Pony.”

Remgull opened the door and for all the cold silence outside, there was an equal amount of good mirth and warmth inside. It seemed like most of the town was present and had gathered all the tables and chairs around a central spot on the floor. Everyone was in a flurry of laughter and excitement as they cheered on the musician who sat beside the fire pit.

As Remgull got closer to the edge of the crowd, he realized it was a gnome that was causing the commotion. Standing she would have been about 3’5”, but at present she was seated cross-legged upon a translucent hovering disc that glowed faintly with pink arcane light. Her nimble fingers plucked wildly at her lyre and her voice rang out clear as a bell over the cheering audience. The music was urged on by their percussive clapping.

“Oh fill up my glass ye lass
Full o’ the finest ale
Distract me from my melancholy
Your wine will never fail!

I’d rather be drunk as skunk
a’weavin’ through the room
Give me a pint! I’ll slam it kerplunk!
What care I for gloom!

Oh!
WHAT CARE I FOR GLOOM! “

The gnome gave a few resounding strums on the lyre and threw up her hands with glee. All the villagers lept from their chairs with a great cheer as her voice rose above their own. Remgull watched with interest as a few of them tossed coin purses onto the floating disk and the gnome gave a humble bow with her head. A rotund woman brought forth a small cup of ale and handed it to her, clapping her on the back.

“Thank you, thank you! How we all doing tonight!”

“Cold!” A man shouted from the back.

The gnome pointed and laughed. “Well find yourself a woman to warm you up! Heeeey!”

A chorus of laughter flooded the room. Opaline smiled and found a place to lean against the wall and watch the action. Remgull’s metallic brows furrowed in distaste.

Upon closer inspection, the gnome was very wiry and her skin was darkly tanned from her days of wandering from town to town in the sun. Her lean musculature rippled with swirling tattoos: on one arm a great ship underway, and on the other a tribal symbol that burst into music notes. When she turned her head to bow to the crowd, Opaline noticed there was a lightning bolt tattooed on the back of her neck, visible at all times because her white-blonde locks stood straight on end like a cluster of fluffy cat tails. Her attire was simple in construction but quite colorful. She had on a purple fitted bodice and scarlet leather breeches. Her simple lyre was carved with moons and stars. It looked worn and well loved.

“Encore, Lyriel, encore!” There came a shout from an older gentleman in front.

“Well, if you insist, my good man!” When the gnome giggled, it sounded like brass bells. The laughter subsided and as it did the frenetic energy in the room followed suit. “For this last number, I’m gonna take it down a notch and end this evening’s performance with a new story.” She gave a wink and straightened her back, setting her lyre upon her knee. “This is the tale of a curious dream I had but a fortnight ago.”

Her fingers began to pluck at the strings and a somber melody issued from them, slow and steady from the instrument. Opaline watched as the gnome breathed deeply, centering herself before her voice came forth, solid and soulful, especially for one so small.

“Three wand’ring souls they came to me across the sea
To a kingdom on the shore, all were shrouded in a dream.
The king had lost his son and no one had ever come
Who could venture in the black and bring the poor boy back.

One, two, three, follow me across the sea.
Step into the dark. We’re lookin’ for a spark.
Hope lies deeper beyond the Underdark,
And you must find a way to tear the shadows apart.

One was an elf who was raised far from his kind.
Never trusted no one he didn’t stand behind.
He loosed a thousand arrows from his bow with deadly aim.
Once he strode into battle, his heart could not be tamed.

Second was an elven child a sorceress of flame,
With hair of garland flowers no mortal man could name,
A rod of magic wonders and skin made of pearl,
With wings upon her back Fey powers could unfurl.”

Opaline’s eyes widened as the song washed over her. The description matched her own perfectly with the exception of the wings, and the more music she heard, the more she felt the arcane melody tug at the lost edges of her mind. It seemed more to her as if the words spoke of her own dreams, or even perhaps that it was awakening parts of her memory that had been lost. Her eyes searched the gnome’s and as the story went on the bard took note of her gaze. They locked on one another and this connection infused the song with new energy. Golden notes erupted from Lyriel’s fingertips as they strummed the lyre and as they floated away from her, they dissolved into a fine mist which began to float around the room.

Remgull also looked on with great interest, or perhaps as much interest as a sentient mass of metal bolts and armor could muster. The plated irises in the jeweled orbs of his eyes grew larger, his parts scratching and clicking. His mind, too, was drawn to the tale and he felt his own memories awaken as the mist began to swirl around him. Even the candles and the great fire seemed to dim as the song progressed. Not a soul moved and the magical melody wrapped itself around them.

“Last was a nymph born of man and born of sea.
She bore a curse that would never set her free.
She swam into the deep and she heard the sirens’ song,
And though she took their gift, she knew that it was wrong.

One, two, three, follow me across the sea.
Step into the dark. We’re lookin’ for a spark.
Hope lies deeper beyond the Underdark,
And you must find a way to tear the shadows apart.

The three wand’ring souls were no heroes to be sure.
They had no kind of fame, no, nor money to their name.
With darkness crawling over every single city wall,
They banded together and they fought until the fall.

One, two, three, follow me across the sea.
Step into the dark. We’re lookin’ for a spark.
Hope lies deeper beyond the Underdark,
And you must find a way to tear the shadows apart.

No sooner had they landed than the humans gave them hell.
Though they were at war they swore they didn’t need more help.
The three wand’ring souls did the best that they could,
Despite the people of the city, who thought they were no good.

One, two, three, follow me across the sea.
Step into the dark. We’re lookin’ for a spark.
Hope lies deeper beyond the Underdark,
And you must find a way to tear the shadows apart.

A man of many mysteries, he came to them with pleas.
‘Save us from the darkness, have mercy won’t you please?’
These silly humans will never save themselves,
And the kings so needs some savin’
Perhaps by nymphs and elves.

One, two, three, follow me across the sea.
Step into the dark. We’re lookin’ for a spark.
Hope lies deeper beyond the Underdark,
And you must find a way to tear the shadows apart.”

Even though there were no other instruments present, the beat of a drum and the strumming of a lute seemed to weave into the orchestration as if by magic.

“Sorceress and ranger and bard all felt the same.
They took up the banner, not knowing what they’d gain.
They marched into the darkness and they slew all in their way.
They battled till the found the prince but much to their dismay,

His blood was running freely he was not much more than dead.
His captors cloaked in shadow with squirming ugly heads.
They knew they couldn’t save him, there just wasn’t any way.
Those monsters opened up hell and the whole world fell away.

They fought, they stabbed, they struggled as the darkness faded out.
The winds ripped at their bodies and there wasn’t no way out.
They knew that they were dying, that their final quest had failed,
But with her final breath, the nymph, she looked at me and wailed.

One, two, three, follow me across the sea.
Step into the dark. We’re lookin’ for a spark.
Hope lies deeper beyond the Underdark,
And you must find a way to tear the shadows apart.

We cannot know what happened to those three wand’ring souls,
But as I dream their tale, I feel a chilling cold.
That nymph told me their story and I hear her siren’s call.
I’m called to write an ending, even if I fall.”

Lyriel’s last note rang out over the crowd with great passion as the mist receded into her. There was a chorus of fervent applause upon the end of the song and she stood up on her disc, bowing graciously. When she looked up, her eyes locked with Opaline’s again.

She put up a small hand to quiet her audience. ”That will be all for tonight, ladies and ‘gents. Thank you for your coin and your keen ears!”

There was another smattering of applause and cheers as everyone turned towards the center of their tables and began conversations, card games, or pouring fresh pints.

Still standing on her magical disc, Lyriel floated through the crowd to Opaline and Remgull. She bowed her head in greeting and placed her hands on her hips. “You folks don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The motors in Remgull’s neck popped and hissed as he looked to Opaline, unsure of how to engage with the tiny creature.

Opaline shrugged. “We’re not. We’re just traveling together. She extended her hand. “I’m Opaline and this is Remgull.”

Lyriel’s eyes shown brightly as she eyed Remgull up and down. “I’ve never seen a warforged in person. He’s really massive, isn’t he?” Her nose wrinkled as she took Opaline’s hand in both of her small spindly ones and shook it happily. “I’m Lyriel Riverdwell Moonrhyme Laughster “Didn’t-do-it” Shinydeath Thunderclap “So-Loud” Songsmith Smith.”

Opaline blinked. “That’s…”

Remgull frowned. “A lot. Of names.”

Opaline canted her head to the side. “And we should call you?”

Lyriel laughed heartily at their reaction, but Remgull’s irises tightened as he seemed to narrow his gaze, thoroughly perturbed. “Designate!” He pointed his three-fingered hand at her roughly.

Lyriel merely smiled. “You can call me Lyriel.” She reached out and shook his finger playfully, eyes gleaming with excitement. “What’s ‘Designate’?”

Remgull straightened, his gaze locked on his finger in her hands. His joints hissed and let out a puff of steam, causing Lyriel to cough and let go of him. “You. Are. Designate. Lyriel.”

Recovering from her coughing fit, Lyriel gasped with glee. “You gave me a new name! You honor me, warforged.” She kicked a small bag off coin that was resting on her disc up into the air and caught it in her hand. “I’m buying you a drink!” Lyriel hopped off of her floating disc, which hummed as it rocked from side to side before settling. She grabbed Remgull’s finger and dragged him to a small table near the bar. The disc floated behind her carrying all her belongings.

Remgull’s metal mouth opened to protest as he stomped after her. “Remgull does not drink.”

Lyriel frowned for a moment as she sat down and kicked her boots up on the table. “Well then there will be more for Lyriel!” She winked and flagged down a wench who fetched three flagons of mead for them from a large unshaven man behind the bar. The gnome handed the barmaid a few coins and handed out the drinks. One for Opaline and two for herself.

Opaline sat down in front of her drink and arranged her gown neatly beneath her. She raised her flagon to Lyriel and the bard returned the gesture. The mead was not of particularly good quality, but it had been a while since Opaline had experienced the luxury. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but what inspired you to write that last song?”

Lyriel’s expression became more serious as she removed her feet from the table. “The story came to me in a dream about a week ago, just as I said. Everything was so real, so specific. Even after waking, it continues to haunt me. It’s as if the siren in that dream has reached out to me with her unfinished tale and begs me to finish it for her. I’ve only heard of such things in legends.” Lyriel shook her head and fluffed her hair with her fingers, giving a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m probably boring you.”

Opaline reached for her hand. “You’re not. You see, as you sang, I felt a connection to your tale. At first as if I had dreamed it as well but then it seemed more like it was my own memory.”

Lyriel leaned forward, clamping her hand on the table. “When I saw you, I had thought perhaps my eyes played tricks on me. You look just like the elf in the tale. This must mean something.”

Opaline’s gaze faltered for a moment as she arranged her garments and deflected the attention onto Remgull. “I’m not sure how he fits into all this.”

Remgull’s head turned to regard each of them. “I remembered things.” He leaned his shoulder in the direction of the gnome so she could see the symbol emblazoned upon it.

“Milner,” she read aloud. “The ranger in the dream. His name was Milner.”

The warforged bowed his head, turning his shoulder away. “Remgull… Milner. That was his name. I cannot know this, but I do. Your song spoke of things that I have forgotten.”

The bard ran her fingertips around the rim of her mug. “I cannot help but feel we were drawn together for a reason, though only the gods would know what our true purpose is. We share a connection to this story and it must be our task to complete the journey of the heroes in the tale.”

Opaline nodded and then shrugged. “Who knows, but the world is full of dark and unknown things. It couldn’t hurt to stick together and make our way as a group. What do you think, Remgull?”

Remgull grunted, his eyes still trained on Lyriel. “It talks. A lot.”

Before Lyriel could reply, the doors of the tavern burst open and a chilling wind swept a flurry of snow into the building. A man stood on the threshold, flailing his arms in terror. “Gnolls! Run for your lives!”

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A Bard's Tale

Chapter 10: The Chase

Chapter 9: A Business Proposition

Chapter 8: Residium and Religion

Chapter 7: Celim

Chapter 6: Larkenvale

Chapter 5: The Dark Ones

Chapter 4: Outnumbered

Chapter 3: Envoys of Bahamut

Chapter 2: Gnolls

Chapter 1: Winter Song

Start the adventure from the beginning…

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