AMBUSH

I was in a frenzy, not my typical repertoire. I was desperate to find that dwarf, desperate to free my friend from his spell. It was in this frenzy that I ignored my better judgement, ignored my higher mind and was trapped in the dark. My companions in another room, being charged by something in the shadows. I prepared myself, but the creature was strong, and my armor failed to deflect his blows. Soon I heard the growl of the fox, the ping of arrows off stone, and the crack of Rayne’s strange weapon, various cries of pain. We turned the creature back, mostly thanks to the efforts of the others, for I am useless in the dark. I felt calmer, the rush of battle draining me of my haste and reminding me that a measured approach is often the best. Someone brought light forward and I saw what my folly had wrought.

LOSS

Lying in a pile of blood, torn beyond recognition, was Werven, the gnome that I had attacked. I was disconsolate. I had ruined a life, I had caused a man to be taken from the world by my lack of foresight and awareness. This would never happen again. I busied myself helping the others about the task of figuring out the puzzle, and moving Werven’s body to somewhere cleaner. As I worked a rage built inside of me, and I shaped it, used it for my own purposes. It made my mind clearer, and my purpose sharper. I would find this dwarf, kill him, and disgrace him. Knowledge should be shared, earned perhaps, but not bought with lives like this.

FOCUS

I found my way back to the crumbled ruins of the stone beast and snapped one of its horns, stowing my prize for a purpose, and rejoined my new comrades. We gathered ourselves and made our way down stairs, but not before being interrupted with some sort of appeasement gift. He seemed keen on curbing our fury, but from the look I could see in Daine’s eyes, and the feeling in my heart, I knew that would not be the case. I know not what the value in a simple staff and pair of daggers holds, but I would assume Tormun could tell me when he wakes.

PREPARATION

Upon arriving on yet another identical floor, I prepared for more of the same, trying to take a quiet step, I realized that with my current configuration, I would be of little use walking quietly. However as I clinked around, I felt a presence settle over me, as if something unseen gripped my chain and plates and held them in place. It was a strange sensation, and I grew worried that something had been wrought by the object of our search, but I heard Daine from behind me assure me that it was her doing, and my failure as a sneak would be covered. We continued, alert for whatever might lie through the darkness, and found our way to a familiar door. Expecting some sort of creature behind it, we formed a plan to use those with extraordinary noise making capabilities (Rayne and Haera) and have them draw whatever thing is in there out into the open. Once visible, we would hit it would everything we had.

VICTORY

However, our best laid plans were laid to waste by the mage himself. Beckoning us into the chamber, we scattered throughout the room in an attempt to corner the bastard and get the answers we wanted. We parlayed for a moment (and in that definition I include Rayne blowing up a chair with her device), but soon he formed a spell and we all sprang into action. He vanished, but thanks to Koh’s sharp nose, we chased him across the room. I unfortunately missed my chance to kill him with the horn I picked up, but Daine had her revenge, and that is enough for me. I did not pass up the chance to disgrace his body, however, and stripped him of all earthly belongings. He may have had dignity in life, but I would not allow it in death, not for his actions.

SPOILS

It was again all for naught. He soon called us forth once more, and informed us of a chest that we had earned, but it felt more like we had sacrificed our friends for it. Loading up the spoils and leaving we went to try to revive Tormun with the ‘simple staff’ I had disregarded earlier. It had the ability to work healing magics, and while the first attempt failed, we had another chance the next day. I kept watch on Tormun through the night, ensuring that nothing ill would befall him before Daine could release him from this prison.

REVIVAL

The morning light came, and with it, new hope, and new power. In the course of the night I asked after Rayne’s ability regarding magical items and she identified my new axe to be one possessing the power of cold. Waiting with bated breath I watched as Daine attempted to use the staff once more, and a wave of energy washed over Tormun’s body. The stone rippled and cracked and he was free! I tackled him in a bear hug, just about catching him on his sore legs. I finally got my bard back, and one of the best friends I have. These new people had proven to be driven, skilled, and deadly. Perhaps they would like to join us in our search for knowledge and power… that would have to wait however. We still had some spoils of knowledge to go over, and I wanted a drink.

It happened that one day we, Tormun Stonesinger and I, received word of a castle, a keep to be specific, out north west of the city of Sheador. This place, Candor Keep, was said to contain artifacts of knowledge and power, perhaps things that we might find useful in our quest to acquire the fortitude to help Tormun’s family, and to advance my abilities as a smith. We journey’d through the wilderness for a few days, Tormun and I enjoying the quiet countryside.

When we arrived at Candor we found a rotting husk of a once-great castle. It had been over taken by nature and left in ruin by some ancient battle. Perhaps, I thought, this would not be the place we sought. As we approached the door we were approached by a strange woman of curious quality. She was gnomish and appeared to be adorned with various artifices, most of which looked unique, of a metallurgic style I had never witnessed. While normally I would love to have interrogated her about her proclivities, we were in dangerous country, and she seemed to have appeared in time to potentially interrupt our search. However, after a few exchanged words we found an uneasy peace. A split of the profits, whatever they may be, was all it took to secure a temporary partnership. She, the gnome Raynewyn “Shockhair” Deckle, also seemed to be in possession of a strange weapon, a sort of exploding tube, this also piqued my interest, but the time for that could come later.

We ventured inside and found the interior was just as decrepit as the exterior. Vines, sprouts, and even full trees had pushed their way through the stone work. This was certainly not of dwarven work, as their creations last even through the harshest of environments. Although, as we proceeded, my theory was thrown into conflict by the appearance of a dwarf clad in robes. He appeared to be a mage of some sort and addressed us with authority. He claimed to be the lord of this castle, and that his knowledge extended far. We were informed that to access it, we must pass three challenges. I asked him whether he possessed any knowledge of the Armiger’s Art and he seemed to lack confidence. I would have turned around on the spot and left with Tormun, but there is the chance that he might have something to aid my friend, so I persisted.

Without waiting for our consent, the dwarf claimed our first trial to be started and suddenly three figures appeared behind him! A gnomish man, an elvish maiden, and her vulpine companion. They appeared dazed, and their clothing and bearing was strange to the eye, as if something about them was just not quite right. The dwarf turned to them and issued commands and soon they had their bows trained on us, as if to drive us from the castle. They appeared to be decent folk, but a trial nonetheless, so I planned to disable them as best I could. I quickly ran to the center of the room, trying to draw their attention from my companions behind. I called for them to lay down their arms, but neither acquiesced so I proceeded to attack the legs of the gnome, hoping to disable his mobility and prevent any further bloodshed. I also called to the maiden to run from this place, as I did not have the heart to do damage to her.

The scuffle continued, but not for long, as it seemed soon the two of them were shaking their heads and appearing even more confused. They soon called for an end to the conflict, but not before I had damaged the little man further. I felt ashamed, while I had done my duty to my friends I had acted hastily, and found myself hurting an innocent. After helping the poor man to his feet we exchanged introductions. It appeared that these people were from another place entirely, unfamiliar with our world and it’s inhabitants (they seemed genuinely shocked by Tormun). They, a wood elf named Veralidaine Sedai and a gnome named Werven Gearbox spoke of fallen comrades, of dragons and mages and of a harrowing time. I offered my assistance, but claimed our mission, and they decided to follow us on that path as well. I am not in need of money so split profits are a minor detail, but I do hope all these new companions do not get in my way of finding what I seek.

After our exchange was complete, we began to explore further and soon found a room overrun with brambles and thick foliage. Beyond the brambles could be heard the distressed voice of a woman. No! It appeared the vile dwarf had drawn even more into his trap. Freeing my rapier from its sheath I began to hack away to the vines, soon aided by my new friend Werven, and we found ourselves in front of a lovely woman of demonic origin, although apparently wishing to distance herself from that notion. She was curiously decorated as well. It appeared as if a funeral mask had been painted on her face. She informed us that she had woken up here, unaware of her location nor her reason for being here. Again we offered aid, but she wanted to explore this foul castle with us, and I am not one to deny any lady her wishes.

So there we stood all assembled. I had previously expected a simple, quick mission with my friend, but now it has blown up in to a full scale excursion. We did not let it hamper our efforts, Tormun and I, and soon found ourselves in another room, this one garnished with several trees, including one that reached to the ceiling! I adjusted my armor to the mode that allows for climbing and proceeded to navigate my way to the top. As I started to return from what appeared to be nothing special, I began to hear cries of battle from below, and saw a serpentine creature race from the shadows and start to enact foul curses upon my new companions. Racing to the bottom I found that several of them had their feet bound by a strange substance, so I donned my full plate once again and rushed over to help. They appeared to break free on their own, and much to their credit, for they used the opportunity to lay into the monster. Our combined powers no match for it. It was a fine fray, but before the end, the monster issued one more perilous gaze. I stood behind and watched, helplessly as it’s magic acted on my comrades. Two of them shook free of its vile grip, but only one, Tormun, succumbed to its clutches. In a panic I rushed over and tried to break the stone from around his feet, but overcome with conflict about striking my friend, I missed and was forced to watch as the stone climbed his body and slowly encased it. Here he was, now a statue of my partner, a relic of the man that once was.

I felt a tremendous anger well up inside of me. This CUR, this KNAVE, would find my hammer upon his brow if he did not free Tormun. I cried out in fury, and beckoned him with sharp words and suggestions of dishonor, but to no avail. I vowed to find him and rushed for where I believed stairs to be, and where I believed I would find that wretched stone-muncher, that pyrite-selling, mother-killing son of a cave whore.

It was supposed to be easy, a simple trip to the library. I was going to go in, use my effervescent charms on whoever was there and find out what info I wanted to. It was simple, it always worked that way. Now here I am plotting on how to infiltrate a cave or temple or whatever the fuck I’m going to all because I wanted a book. It better be damn well worth it. When I get back, I’m going to walk into that library, pass held high, smile on my face, and the biggest bouquet of flowers I can hold, just to rub it in that bitch’s face. But for now I’m going to have a drink, maybe try to find a pair of horses, and then find my way to this reliquary. I’ll probably keep everything for myself, but who knows, I might be generous.

Another night, another bar stage to get booed off of. I found myself stretching after a long, hard day of travel. A simple place, nothing extravagant, nothing to pricey, hopefully I could actually make a profit at this one. The bar-goers were nothing too special, one had some funny looking armor on, otherwise just a few simple patrons.

Not too late in the night, I’d hoped the people could be forgiving here. I pulled out my guitar, which just happens to look ax in shape, and of course nobody sees the guitar, everybody notices the ax part. People get startled, as always, but a quick few plucks of a string, and people learn to calm themselves. The man in armor seemed to turn around to see what I was up to. I started without singing, just to get people to start tapping along.

Just as I was really getting into the song, a horrible rabble of folk shoved their way into the bar. And what a surprise, the one in front, obviously leading the drunken crew started throwing obscenities right in my face. Rightfully so, I flipped them off and continued to play, trying to keep people kind and happy. At that point, the armored individual spoke up. "Quiet, fool. I’ll not have you ruin my night and everyone else’s simply by virtue of your stupidity. If you wish to ply your unseemly voice against someones ear, I suggest it be that of the sow you call a mother,” he spoke with quite the loud and powerful tone, I was rather impressed at his projection skills in fact.

The vulgar bastard rose his tone quite horribly in return sadly, not a noise friendly to the ears. “Oi, i can shay whatevr the fock i want… WHERE I want.” After that the man actually threw a punch at the armored fellow! But I didn’t let that one go into fruition. A well placed end of my guitar, blocked the slow punch without issue.

“I wouldn’t do that small one,” I called down to the bastard. “I’d shut your mouth, lest you want more of a headache tomorrow morning.”

“Loike I givvve a fuc-,” he tried to retaliate with a stupid comeback, yet he was met with a gauntlet to his face, from my armored fellow. He looked to me and spoke. "I apologize, dear sir, I just couldn’t listen to one more word from that god awful anus of a mouth. Perhaps you would like the next?” The bastard’s party behind him started to raise their fists up for a brawl. “Shall we?” asked the armored friend. “Let’s dance,” we said in perfect unison, as they jumped into the fray of drunken bastards.

-

After quite the bout, a rabble of knocked out drunks lay on the floor in a pile under me and my new allies’ feet. “That was a fine performance, sir, but I’m afraid I never caught your name. However, I shouldn’t be so crass as to not introduce myself first. I am Trevor Archibald Marion Egwynt. You may refer to me simply as Tre. I am on my errant quest to find the lost secrets of Armigers and return to my people with pride and skill abounding.” his voice rang true and honest.

“The name’s Tormun Stonesinger, biggest bard you’ll ever meet, seeking my own form of power,” I replied gladly, a strange sense of trust in this new fellow.

“Well met, Tormun. If you are seeking power as well, would you like to become my partner? I could use a little extra muscle sometimes as well as someone who can drag me out of the archives when I get distracted.”

“That’s not too bad an idea, I say we can stick together, I could at least fulfill a nice symphony out of it.”

Tormun Stonesinger
Tre Egwynt

It was a relatively mild and fair weathered night. It had been a long day for most, but much shorter for some. Tre was staring down a pint of ale, both figuratively and literally reflecting on himself and the job he had to do that day. You could see the marks and the icker of battle smeared all over his face, but he wasn’t in the mood to wash up. That’s why he came to his dive, thought it would be a bit better than that stuffy inn he technically could afford. ’Twas much better to be among the rabble, though; far more entertaining in his experience.

At about the time he downed his 3rd mug he found himself treated to a strange sight, climbing up on the platform that served as a stage was a creature of unusually large height, and as was obvious at the time, unusually bull-like features. Not one to discriminate, Tre turned around in his seat to enjoy whatever show this person could put on. As the minotaur, yes, that was the word, he knew these sort but perhaps this drink was getting to him, pulled out what looked like a battle axe, the crowd in his immediate vicinity reared back in horror, but just as they did so his massive hands came down and began to pluck the strings, producing a most beautiful sound. It was really quite a raucous tune, and some of the other patrons were now tapping their feet and getting used to the idea of a large bull-man serenading them.

It was unfortunate timing then that at this moment several men should come in through the door, themselves already visibly drunk and carrying on without respect for the performer. The one at the lead opened his obviously slack jaw and started shouting obscenities at the poor minotaur, who was obviously there just to help people have a good time. Tre, in all his noble sensibilities felt this to be unjust, so he rose gracefully from his seat and approached the rabble.

“Quiet, fool. I’ll not have you ruin my night and everyone else’s simply by virtue of your stupidity. If you wish to ply your unseemly voice against someones ear, I suggest it be that of the sow you call a mother,” with this his voice rose to a dramatic crescendo, his tone becoming more and more of the noble sort, perhaps a bit too haughty to be just.

“Oy, I cahn shay what I want… whffere I want to!” and with this rather lackluster comeback, he leaned forward to try and strike Tre! As he thrust his fist forward it suddenly made contact with something large and shiny. A deep and resonant voice came from somewhere above it, “You might not want to do that, little man.” The Minotaur spoke from the end of his axe haft. “Or I’ll have to sing you a lullaby.”

“Loike oi givvve a fuc-” at this a gauntlet-ed fist was thrust in his face, knocking him to the floor. Tre looked up to his new companion, “I apologize, dear sir, I just couldn’t listen to one more word from that god awful anus of a mouth. Perhaps you would like the next?” As he spoke the rest of the man’s gang rallied themselves and prepared to brawl. Tre gave the large bull-like man a look, “Shall we?” he asked. “Let’s dance,” came the reply as both of them jumped into the fray!

—

Some time later, atop a pile of unconscious bodies, Tre held his new mug of ale toward his new friend, offering a toast and thanks, “That was a fine performance, sir, but I’m afraid I never caught your name. However, I shouldn’t be so crass as to not introduce myself first. I am Trevor Archibald Marion Egwynt. You may refer to me simply as Tre. I am on my errant quest to find the lost secrets of Armigers and return to my people with pride and skill abounding.” The large creature reached his own mug to meet, “And I am Tormun of the Stonesingers, a bard at large and seeking power of my own.”

“Well met, Tormun. If you are seeking power as well, would you like to become my partner? I could use a little extra muscle sometimes as well as someone who can drag me out of the archives when I get distracted.”

“That’s not a bad idea, I’ll stick with you a while and see how it goes, at the very least, I can write a song about you and add it to my repertoire.”