Tales of Faerun

[Macman253]

Bard opened his eyes, the mead kept him from sleeping. He sat up against his bedroll and stared into the flames, the embers were low so he prodded them with the tip of his sword. The flames rose alittle higher and brighter, he looked up at the sky to see the moon hanging above them. It wasn't yet midnight and he could not sleep. Bard slowly stood, his body not what it used to be, he had to use his sword as a cane. His joints popped and crackled from his many years as a soldier. The many battle wounds had taken their toll on his body.

 

"Young in mind but not in body..." He said to himself as he stood, a slight smirk on his face. He looked around to see the Drow had left and most others were beginning to settle in. Llorkh was not far away and he felt like a walk may help him sleep. He picked up his sword, bow and quiver and turned to Rhaine. She appeared to be asleep so he continued to without telling her he was leaving for a walk. Llorkh was a smallish town but due to its black history it has become a haven for bandits and knaves. He lashed his calf-skin boots onto his feet and began to walk north towards the stream. He slid his bastard sword into the scabbard across his back.

 

After sometime he came to the fast flowing stream, he knelt down and plunged his hand into the water and drew it up to his mouth and drank. The water was cool and refreshing, he felt a presence nearby and heard the gentle footsteps on the riverstones. He hand drifted to the hilt of the dagger at his side. Despite being an older man he was still an able fighter and was very difficult to approach from behind. The steps grew louder as the individual approached, he felt odd that they were not overtly trying to be silent. Soon the smell of roses filled his nostrils and just as the stranger neared he whirled around. Dagger at the ready to counter whatever strike was coming his way.

 

As he turned he saw a beautiful woman in a long silk white dress, her deep red hair cascaded down her back and nearly touched the floor. Her eyes shone in the moonlight with a deep emerald color. What amazed him further was her face, she looked just like his late-wife.

 

Bard dropped to his knees, the dagger falling from his hands. "Lelana....how could you be?" He said, the woman smiled and pressed her finger to his lips to silence his many questions. Her voice was soft and harmonious but it spoke with great fortitude and authority. "Jerek, my time has taken its toll on you. I still remember you as that boy wearing the ill-fitting uniform that would watch me. You were so adorable..." She said with a slight chuckle. Bard smiled, "It's been a very long time since then. You were just an acolyte for Sune then. Not yet a Sister..." He said as he realized she was a phantom. He stood, his dagger in his hand. He gently sheathed it in his boot and stared into her eyes. They captivated him, as they always did. "Yes, I remember leading you all over the city to see if you would keep following me." She replied, a bright smile on her face.

 

Bard nodded and chuckled, "Yes, I did not need daily exercise then. I was too busy following you everywhere, but had I not followed you we would have never married and our son would have never been born." He said, the painful memories of his son flashing through his mind. His death was ten years ago but it was still fresh in his mind. He forced a smile to hide his pain, Lelana knew and she gently stroked his cheek. Despite his age he was still a handsome man, in his blue eyes she could see the young lad still inside. "I know, our son was a strong boy. Passionate and proud like his father..." She said, "...aye, and wise beyond his years like his mother." Bard finished. Lelana looked across the river to see a glowing light and she smiled warmly.

 

"I must go my love, remember. Not all of the gods have abandoned you..." She said as she walked towards the river. Her footsteps leaving ripples as she walked gently across the water. Bard knew her time was short, he smiled. "I hope to see you again someday... Ill share my stories with our son. I have so many to tell him..." He said to her, Lelana smiled and soon vanished. Bard was alone once more, but he knew that he was never truly alone. He pulled his waterskin from his belt and stooped down to fill it with water. Silently vowing to stop his drinking as he did so. As he stood he heard a faint rustling in the leaves, faint voices came from the trees across the river. He watched closely and could make out five pairs of glistening green eyes. They were low to the ground and all were locked onto him, as he watched an arrow whisked by his head. Its origins from his right, he looked to see a two goblins. All of them wearing red facepaint that looked like a skull, one charged at him with a club and the other fumbled with his bow.

 

Bard quickly drew his sword and parried the blow from the club that would have cracked his skull wide open. He lashed out with a sharp kick that sent the Goblin off his legs and arse first into the river-stones. The goblin brought up its small wooden buckler to block the second strike but Bard saw this and grasped his blade in a two handed grip. He brought it down hard and it cleaved through the rotten wooded shield and his arm in one deft strike, the goblin began to howl like a stuck pig as he grasped his stump of a forearm and rolled around on the ground. Bard ducked as an arrow whisked by his head, he quickly grasped the dagger tucked into his boot and threw it underhanded at the archer. The dagger twirled quickly, slicing the air as it spun and buried itself to the hilt in the greenskins chest.

 

The goblin looked down at the knife stuck into his heart, his hand clutching the hilt but his heart stopped before he could remove it and he slumped over onto the stones. Black orc blood seeping from his chest. He looked around quickly to see that the five orcs across the river had begun to charge him. Screaming profane words in Orcish as they did so. Bard stuck his blade into the rocks and drew his bow and notched an arrow. He drew back and fired, the arrow whistled as it flew and slammed home in the first Goblins chest that took him off his feet, Bard reached up and drew another arrow and loosed it. This one buried itself into the face of a goblin clutching a elegantly made crossbow, the goblin ran for a few more seconds and collapsed on the stones. The third Goblin was on him with a crudely made stone sword, he did not have time to draw another arrow so he used his bowstaff to block the strike but the wood was not strong enough and the blade cleaved through it and buried itself in his shoulder.

 

Bard let out a loud groan of pain, the dagger-like shocks coursed through his arm. With his free-hand he pulled his Dirk free and stuck it into the greenskins neck. The goblin's eyes filled with hate as he thick black blood spurted from his neck, coating Bard in the stuff. He kicked the dead Goblin off of him and grasped his Bastard Sword. He held it in a defensive position and waited for the remaining two goblins to attack. They simply looked at one another, astounded this human fought off so many of them. They looked at Bard and then ran back across the river and vanished into the forest.

 

Bard breathed a sigh of relief and stood slowly, his arm shooting with pain. He tossed his quiver aside and began to check the bodies. He found a few bits of jewelry and coin but the crossbow he found was exquisite in craftsmanship. Most certainly elven, it had a red and gold coloration to it and the arms of the bow were made to look like an eagles wings, the bolt slid into a special notch and the tip of the bolt protruded from the screaming mouth of the eagles head. He noticed the trigger had a strange loop on it and when he pulled it he realized it was connected to the draw mechanism. He spun it quickly and the weapon cocked itself using the momentum of the spin. "Ingenious, most likely made for cavalrymen." He thought, he lashed the crossbow to a leather strap and hung it over his shoulder, he grabbed the sack of bolts from the dead goblin and hung it on a belt loop. He quickly tore off a piece of cloth from one of the greenskins burlap coats and fashioned himself a bandage which he wrapped around his arm and tied off.

 

"This will do for awhile.." He said as he stood up, he grasped his sword and started to walk back to camp. The remaining goblins would be back soon and with far greater numbers so he decided to take the long way back so as not to lead them directly to his companions.

[Naktis]

Nawen returned to the camp after scouting the closest areas surrounding the camp. Other than the animals inhabiting the area she hadn't noticed anything alarming or unusual. Before going back to the camp she practiced her archery skills a bit more because there was always room for an improvement when it came to using a bow.

 

Once she entered the camp, Nawen saw that most of her friends were settling in for the night.

 

"I have to say that this is the best place for the camp. I haven't encountered anything hostile." She said and looked around searching for a fitting place to sleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was eerily quiet inside the temple of Cyric. Not one priest or priestess were in sight. The two men exchanged suspicious looks before making their way forward. In the center of the temple they saw a raven haired woman wearing a plate armor. She and her two lackeys were surrounded by the dead priests.

 

"Well, what do we have here?" The woman spoke as she noticed Aedan and the tiefling. Her face was scarred but still retained some of her fierce beauty. Her brown, almost black eyes focused on the Fallen.

 

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Rayna." Aedan said as he stared at the countless lifeless bodies littering the floor of the temple.

 

"What's this about?!" Kevorin chimed in. "This was my job! What are you doing here?!" The tiefling's face was so red that it looked like it was on fire.

 

"Relax." The woman, Rayna said calmly. "It appears that your client as well as mine double-crossed us both. This temple has no artifacts and the priests were prepared for combat and waiting for us.

 

While Kevorin stared blankly at the woman, Aedan watched the statue of Cyric placed right above the altar in the niche. The statue made him very uncomfortable, more so than all the other statues of other deities he had seen before.

 

"Coming with us Fallen?"

 

Aedan looked at Rayna who was heading towards the exit. Her lackeys as well as the tiefling were already gone. He shook his head.

 

"No. I have some things to do." The woman seemed somewhat disappointed by his decision. "Kill the tiefling" he quickly added, "for the good old days." Aedan turned his attention back to the statue. He couldn't see Ryana nodding or hear Kevorin cursing him to burn in Hells for what he told the ruthless woman to do.

[Macman253]

Bard walked back into the camp, He sat down at his usual place. Most the camp was asleep aside Nawen, she had just returned it appears. Bard growled as his wound hurt more and more. He was lucky, it was nothing but a flesh wound but it still hurt quite a lot and fewer things annoyed him more then difficult to heal wounds such as flesh wounds. He looked up at the sky as he sat down next to his bedroll. The moon hung lazily above the horizon, daybreak would be soon. He laid his head back on his bedroll and closed his eyes.

 

He was fast asleep, dreaming of old memories. He dreamt of his wife, her wonderful cooking. His young son and their games. He dreamt of the day his son was brought into the world, how happy he had been for many years. It was these dreams that put him to sleep and kept him there until after daybreak.

[GrueMaster]

Tak'we watched as the others went to sleep one by one, wondering what softskins did in such a state. What goes on in their minds when they sleep? He noticed Rhaine, Nawen, and later Bard go off on their own. Rhaine and Nawen came back, but Bard remained gone a bit longer. What is he up to? In response to Nawen's observation, the thri'kreen nodded in agreement. "Yesss, thisss place isss peaceful."

 

Tak'we got up from where he sat and retrieved his gythka, taking apart the wires and beads and placing them carefully inside his cloak once again. He pulled out a wetstone and began to sharpen the staff's blades, softly so not to disturb his companions. The blades didn't need to be sharpened, being wrought of finely-worked mithral, but the repetitive sound and motion brought him peace of mind. He watched Mother Moon follow her nightly path across the sky and offered a silent prayer to the moon spirit, thanking her for his new friends and for giving them a peaceful night.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Bard return to the camp. The softskin looked as though he'd just been in a fight. Tak'we was tempted to demand what had happened, but he didn't want to risk waking his clutchmates. He can tell everyone in the morning, the thri'kreen thought, so he saved the question for later and went back to sharpening his gythka.

Edited February 4, 2013 by GrueMaster

[AurianaValoria1]

Dawn arrived quicker than Rhaine had anticipated, bathing the countryside in a warm, golden glow. She did not know when she had finally fallen into slumber...though she did know it was after Bard had left the camp. The Doomguide had not been asleep when he slipped away, merely thinking with her eyes closed; the only thing she had seen of him as he had disappeared was the glint of his sword. Now, though, he was back, and it appeared as though he had been wounded, judging from the blood on his arm. She frowned as she wondered what kind of trouble he had wandered into.

 

Rhaine sat up and stretched, popping a few of her vertebrae as she did so. The ground was unpleasantly hard, and she was sore where her armor had dug into her hip as she slept on her side. Looking around, she saw that most everyone else was still sleeping, save Tak'we.

[Flipout6]

Weyland's lips pulled up in a smirk at Tannin's offer, but his face hardened quickly. "No. I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Sorry to disappoint you, but it is of little importance. It is unlikely I'll ever again encounter Sana anyway." His expression darkened.

 

Finishing his potatoes, Weyland washed his own dishes and packed his backpack, before proceeding to set it down in his tent and change into more casual clothing as opposed to armor. He sat back down.

 

Later on, when Bard had come back from the woods, Amendale quickly picked up on the fact that the man was wounded and stood up, grabbing the components for a healing spell from a satchel on his belt. The elf stopped Bard for a second and then patched up the injury to his arm with a quick spell before sitting back down, hoping the arm and other injuries had healed right. They should have, since he had used one of the more powerful healing spells he knew, and would regenerate the lost energy when he slept. Amendale wondered what could have injured him, but supposed that if Bard had returned and not warned them of a danger he had disposed of it himself. If not, the group could more than handle itself.

 

Both Weyland and Amendale considered going to bed, but decided to stay up a while longer in case whatever attacked Bard reared its ugly head.

[josh900]

Tannin bowed to Weyland. "Very well then. But now i am curious and will be eagerly awaiting the time when you wish to speak of it.

He then looked over at Echo. "Well the same could be said of Drow and yet. Here you are traveling with one and a half. But this particular orc was abandoned by his parents out in the woods somewhere. He was maybe five years old when he was thrown out into the woods. He would have died.. If a small clan of leprechauns hadn't found him. So as you can imagine.... he was a strange one. Thrag was his given name. But he preferred Thomas, for some reason his adoptive father called him that. So anyways. Can't remember what city we were in but we had just returned from a particularly nasty cavern, bugbears, ogres, you name it. Well Thomas had been roughed rather badly, didn't even know what day it was. So of course.. our first stop is the tavern where everyone, including myself have about... five too many ales. So i wake up the next morning under the table. I look around and see everyone else in varies degrees of consciousness with one exception. Thomas is missing. So we pick ourselves up off the floor and go out searching. Eventually hearing about something going on over at the temple of Sune nearby. So we head over to see what's going on and.... There's Thomas buck naked, dancing and singing up on an alter with one of the priestess." Tannin couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

"So.. he turns around and sees us. And starts going on and on about how the goddess of beauty has shown him the light. That he is now whole.And never again shall be ashamed of his outer appearance, for the beauty within him shines through like a glorious sun. He dedicates his life to Sune right then and there. That lasted a whole two weeks. He said. Twas a wee bit too girly for a man like him." He finished in a brogue. He looked down at the ground as his chuckles subsided. "I miss him." He added softly.

 

 

He stayed awake long enough to see the others return. Bards return bothered Tannin though. The smell of goblin on him was enough to tip him off. "No sleep tonight it seems" He muttered to himself. Not wanting to risk waking up to a horde of angry goblins running down their camp because of Bard.

Edited February 5, 2013 by josh900

[Flipout6]

Despite what was formerly a grim mood, Weyland found himself stifling a loud, slumber-disrupting uproar of laughter at Tannin's story. Even Amendale chuckled softly.

 

"Oh, that's a good one, though I assure you mine isn't that funny. Not that I'm telling it right now. Anyway, I'm getting tired, I'm off to bed." He stretched and stood up, making his way inside his tent and stripping down to his undergarments. He let out a small sigh of weariness and relief when he wiggled his way into the sleeping bag and was out like a light within the minute.

 

Amendale sat for a few more minutes and then followed suit, finding his own bedroll and snuggling into it. He fell asleep a bit slower, but nonetheless drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

 

 

Amendale was one of the first up the next morning, and helped prepare a campfire to cook breakfast on. Within minutes the smell of bacon was adrift through the camp, filling every tent and drifting up every nostril. Amendale enjoyed the first piece, while the smell had Weyland out of bed and fully dressed before noon, which as far as fighters (especially Weyland) went was quite a feat. He groggily filled his plate with bits of bacon and other foods and shuffled over to his favored log to sit down and eat.

 

He enjoyed his bacon immensely. "Thanks, Amendale. Gimme bacon or gimme death, know what I mean?" He spent five minutes chewing the one piece and snuck an extra two pieces from the pan when Amendale looked the other way, leather gloves protecting him from immediate burns.

Edited February 5, 2013 by Flipout6

[Macman253]

Bard awoke early, his body was stiff from sleep. The smell of bacon filled the air, his arm was still sore despite the healing. The Goblins had not attacked so he must have lost them in the wilds. He laid his bastard sword across his lap as he fished a whetstone from his pack and began to sharpen it. The weapon itself was of fine craftsmanship at one time. Years of battle and time has worn its beauty but not its edge. The hilt was ornamented in a dragons head and the wings made the crossguard. The leather around the hilt was of drakescale and provided a firm grip aswell as a smooth and shiny surface. Runes etched into the blade spelled out to those that could read the Dwarven language. "For Honorable Service." Read the runes, its dwarven craftsmanship was apparent at the formation of the blade. Thick blade with a large blood-groove. The blade was designed to be held one handed aswell as by two hands, despite its dwarven craft it was meant for Bard's hands.

 

Bard gently ran the whetstone along the edge of the blade, he generously applied a sweet smelling oil after he finished. He slid the blade into its scabbard and picked up his new crossbow, he looked over it closely and then aimed it one handed at an apple he sat on the end of his foot. He squeezed the trigger system and the bolt released with a quick slap of the bowstring and pierced the apple to the earth. He flipped the crossbow around, the bowstring pulled back into place and one of the five bolts in the internal magazine loaded into place. Bard smiled, elegant make repeating crossbow. He dropped the bolt from the notch and released the bowstring to take the torque from it, to keep it from weakening.

 

"So what is our agenda for today?" He asked as he pressed the wing-shaped bowstaff against the sides of the crossbow and tucked it away into the leather satchel that he kept his bow materials in.

[AurianaValoria1]

Rhaine glanced at Bard, "We going as far as we can before we stop. Hopefully, we'll be at least halfway through the Greypeaks by nightfall."

 

She rose and headed towards the campfire, taking a few pieces of bacon for herself and grinning at Weyland, "I know exactly what you mean." Having been raised in a swamp town with only rabbit and pork as available meats, she was quite familiar with the better taste of the latter...

 

Sori, Bilron, and Maeve were eating their own breakfast, having risen before the Doomguide. Bilron had already hitched the oxen, and all that remained was to put their daily provisions back in the wagons.