These beautiful tales and stories are here to read for your pleasure, do not copy any of them, do not publish them without my written permission. These stories are written by several friends, but they would appreciate if you show respect for their fantasy. Enjoy!
The Gathering of the Brotherhood of the Phoenix… by Nero JB Prologue: The Set Up
“My Lord we cannot fight this battle alone…” the elf whispered from across the dirty table. “Even with all your power this battle is more than we can handle.” “I know Lasir, I know…but the world is rife with fear and people have become weak, scared to lose what they have,” the cloaked figure muttered back across the table. The elf and his cloaked companion sat and contemplated their next move from a wobbly corner table in the dingy little tavern. “My Lord Nero you are a leader people will follow you.” Lasir said. “NO!” The cloaked figure spat as he slammed his fist down on the table momentarily silencing the patrons sitting throughout the one room bar. Once everyone turned back to their drinks and conversations he continued, “Not anymore, no I cannot…we must find a new leader one that will not make the same mistakes that I did so many years ago.” They sat in silence quietly sipping their drinks wondering where to begin. “Lord perhaps we should head to where problems are spreading, you know better than anyone that they have learned the value of stealth and subterfuge.” “Aye Lasir, the demons have become cunning we need to slow them down while we find allies, I feel their foul taint even in this quiet place.” “We should head to Khar, the telltale signs of their influence are starting to show, mysterious deaths, chaos breaking out in the streets…” “Then we leave now, there is no time to waste.” With that the two set off to the south making their way through the desert to the oasis city of Khar. On the fifth night after leaving the bar they were coming to a small town which was more a collection of buildings amidst the sand than a real town. As they neared the town they saw fire and both immediately broke into a run. As they neared the low stone wall that surrounded the small outpost of civilization they saw what they both expected and feared. “Demons,” Lasir whispered from where they were crouched behind the wall. He pulled his arrows out of his quiver and turned back to where his friend was, or at least had been. What he saw next would haunt his dreams. His companion had scaled the wall without making a sound and was making his way to the middle of the demon infested stone courtyard. Notching an arrow and aiming for the demon nearest his ally he waited.
As the demons became aware of his presence Nero stopped and removed his hood to show his battle scarred and time aged face. “I am fortunate tonight,” one of the demons, the apparent leader of the group growled. “The betrayer himself…I owe you my thanks half-breed, for years we waited, our timeless prison broken by a fool, while I appreciate what you did for us,” the demon said mockingly, “I cannot let you live, but I will not kill you tonight…no I have plans for you.” “Sol’Khan, remove your minions from this plane, death awaits you for your crimes, be gone you foul beast.” To Lasir’s horror the great beast laughed and mocked Nero. “My, crimes? You know nothing of the crimes I have committed. No I think you are the one to be punished; you have doomed this pathetic world, resist if you must but I will break you before the end.” In a flash he disappeared leaving Nero amongst his minions. The demons began advancing upon Nero growls and snorts and the disgusting sound of the demons speaking their own tongue filled the air. With no fear in his eyes Nero raised his arms as a faint glow gathered around him. Lasir stood paralyzed as he watched Nero pulled the little light present in the night into himself. A few seconds later though Lasir would have sworn it were hours, the night turned silent and Lasir’s companion was engulfed in a blinding white fire that spread until the entire courtyard was filled with swirling white flames and the burning bodies of screaming demons. As Lasir looked on he could see utter hatred coming from the brightly lit face of his friend, manifested rage emanating from his eyes. As the fires subsided Lasir stood up and saw that not one demon was left standing. Both amazed and horrified Lasir picked up his weapon and made his way to the side of his friend. “M-My lord…” Lasir managed to stutter as he came to his friend’s side. For a moment Nero made no response, he stood shaking next to Lasir. His body began to convulse and tremble a dark aura surrounding him. Again Lasir spoke to him and this time the fires subsided. “Lasir, I am not your lord nor anyone’s anymore,” he said in a quiet raspy winded voice, “My crimes bar me from any such praise and admiration, no I am only Nero…the betrayer…we should keep moving, the beasts do not rest.”
Two days of near silent travel later the pair of travelers entered the oasis city of Khar. Khar was a vibrant bustling center of trade and learning, merchants sold their wares, soldiers patrolled the streets, and temples taught students to master the magical powers they possessed. Despite the apparently peaceful state Nero could feel the foul taint of the demons on the city threatening to unravel it all. Lasir lead Nero away down the main streets and onto some back roads. As they made their way down a particularly quiet and narrow roadway four dirty inconspicuous men stepped from the shadows cast by the clutter lining the sandy brown buildings that created the roofless tunnel in which they now stood. The largest and likely least intelligent among them strode forward. Stepping between the brigand and Nero, Lasir drew his long knives. “Be gone minion, leave my Lord be.” Lasir spat with disgust. “I have a message for your “Lord” the enforcer said mockingly. “Leave this city, the betrayer and his allies are not welcome here, if you do not we will “convince” you that it is a good idea.” As the last word left the lumbering hulk’s mouth Lasir’s blade pierced his chest killing him instantly. The three other ruffians let out howls of outrage and drew their weapons in unison. With Lasir’s blade already dripping crimson Nero followed suit and drew his sword. Despite his aged appearance Nero moved with a possessed speed and unnatural quickness. The fight was over in a heartbeat. Nero and Lasir dispatched them so swiftly that none of the three had yet taken a swing. Sheathing their weapons Lasir led the way down the narrow road and finally into a hidden alleyway. “Lasir, where are we going?” Nero asked. “I have made some less than honorable contacts in the past few years.” Lasir whispered as they made their way down the cramped alley. When they reached a door at the end of the passage Lasir knocked three times and a small slit barely big enough to see through opened, a big green eye peered through from the other side of the door. Without hesitation the door creaked open on its old rusty hinges Lasir leading Nero in to the heart of the city’s dark underworld. Expecting to find this place a den of witless thugs Nero was surprised to enter a cavernous underground complex, and while there were certainly many simple thugs in the crowd, there were also former soldiers, mages, and scouts. As their time in Khar past they made little headway in discovering the intent of the demons. Nero was slightly dismayed but also fascinated by the group that he was now living amongst. After many nights of long discussion he came to learn that the group called themselves the Deathbringer’s legion. They were ruthless to those that crossed them and though Nero used all his cunning and charisma he learned very little of their mission and goals, perhaps they simply didn’t have any. Most impressive of all was the massive underground library that their mages had collected. Ancient texts, amazingly some from his own decimated homeland had survived and been restored. Brandishing the old majik’s for the delight of the guild’s mages he quickly had many of them in his pocket with hints of helping them master the majiks he controlled. The mages even gave him unlimited access to their libraries and vaults of relics and majikal items. Nero spent days and nights combing through the treasures that the guild had collected looking for nothing in particular, or so he thought. He found himself driven to continue his search thought not knowing why. On a day like any other since he had come to live with the legion Nero came upon a simple wooden box. On the top of the box written in an ancient language he was sure few but he could still read was written one word, Salvation. Intrigued, Nero opened the box and found an amulet wrapped in a very old piece of cloth. While unwrapping the amulet he noticed that the cloth was not simply there to protect the piece but held a message as well. In the same ancient language, that of the Shekaren, was a cryptic message.
Beyond the Temple of Light and Dark, far to the north in a forgotten valley… Within stone itself and protected by his elemental opposite and sister… The spirit of the fire god Kindar, who defied the dark god and in self sacrifice brought peace, lies dormant… Bring the key of the fire god’s right hand, with the will of a hero and be blessed!
The worship of this god had ceased even when Nero had first walked the roads of the world with his betrayed friends. Myths about the fire god were ancient even by Elvin standards and very little recorded history remained but the little Nero knew was that Kindar and his followers had been defeated by the daemons and their dread god but not before they had all but broken the dark god’s power. Emblazoned on the amulet was the fire god’s favorite pet, a beast of myth, the Phoenix. Entranced Nero lifted the amulet from the box and felt raw energy emanating from the piece, a warmth not of body but of soul that filled him from head to toe. To the horror of the mages in the catacombs Nero stood paralyzed, overpowered by the raw energy in his body. As he collapsed and fell to the hard stone floor Lasir came rushing in and half carried Nero to his chambers the amulet still in hand. For the next two days Nero lay in his chambers catatonic, wailing in the darkness as though he were simply sleeping through a nightmare. In reality that was not so far from the truth. While Nero opposed the demons he was himself not wholly of the light. The purity of the powers radiating from the amulet had attacked the darkness that lived within him, the darkness that he believed reminded him of his folly and which he tapped to strike those that stood against the light. After two nights that seemed an eternity while trapped in his mind Nero awoke with a start. The amulet was sitting atop the table on the side of his bed but he dared not to touch it again. A faint light emanated from the amulet now, filling the room with a dim red glow. For two days he studied the message along with maps and histories trying to discover its purpose and the location of the fire god’s demise. As time passed Nero became frustrated, he could not find any clues to the whereabouts of the fire god. There was no mention in any of the histories that he searched of a hidden valley. Exhausted from his searching Nero pulled a book from the guilds great library about his old homeland. Great a man as he was or perhaps because of his greatness he still centuries later felt pained at the destiny that had befallen his country. Flipping through the book he read stories of great people from ages past…people that he had known and fought alongside. Memories came back to him, specific moments from his life, places he had been and people he had known. He had never forgotten the cataclysm that ended his kingdom’s future but it seems the rest of the story, the small yet most important parts, had been slipping into the gray mist that comes with time.
While he read he laughed and cried and found himself saying, “That’s not how it happened” over and over again. As he was walking through the library to return the book and thinking that he should really write a better history it came to him. With a great deep laugh he marveled at his own blindness. When he was a boy there was a great waterfall that he and his friends had often enjoyed during hot summer days. Not only that but his own country now lost to the world and remembered only in ancient and particularly inaccurate histories was a hidden valley itself. There his ancestors had escaped from the Great War that created the wastes beyond the pass. It seemed so simple to him he could hardly believed he had managed the oversight. Relieved that he had found the fallen god’s resting place he sauntered the halls of the library ecstatic at his good fortune. Unfortunately, as quickly as the good feelings had come they vanished in the wake of yet another conundrum. Who? Who would be able to actualize the promise in which the amulet was wrapped? It could not be him, he had done far too much wrong in his life to ever receive such a blessing, and he had sworn he would not lead ever again, the mistakes he had made in life were far to great. Moody and agitated he studied everyone he could put his eyes on, no one in the guild was a match, none had hero’s blood in their veins. Heroes are born not made, a fighter can be trained, a guard can be taught but a hero is something more than one who wields a sword or magic well. Nero had never put much weight into fate or destiny but this night would change his mind forever. While he and Lasir were eating and discussing local rumors and strange occurrences the guild alarm sounded, echoing through the halls. One of the guards came to them and informed them that a pair of thieves were on the loose in the hideout. Walking briskly with Lasir close behind Nero made his way to his quarters as patrols passed in every direction looking for the intruders. As he opened the heavy oak door to his room Nero was surprised to see a pair of young street urchins making a hasty retreat from his room though a small window that lead to the streets above. In her hand was the fire god’s amulet, and Lasir knowing its true value drew his blades and made to walk past Nero and collect the piece. As he was passing Nero threw out his arm to stop him and simply watched as the two made their escape. “Lasir,” Nero whispered with urgency, “Protect that girl and the amulet she carries. Reading Nero’s face he said, “My Lord? Surely it cannot be her, she is so young! And what hero is a thief.” “I understand your concern, but you must keep her alive, the guilds assassins are already tracking her and the boy, she must be kept safe, and she must make it to the mainland.” “As you wish, and what of the boy?” “Do not harm him, if he can escape so be it, I do not believe that he will be so lucky as she.” Without another word Lasir lept through the window in one graceful motion and made his way on the rooftops, his nimble elvin feet making no noise as he glided through the air. The night was dark clouds covering the moon and stars, as Lasir made his way over the city he watched the two young thieves running down back streets and through abandoned buildings. With his birds eye view he could also see some of the guilds elite shadow assassins trailing them. They two thieves were making a valiant escape managing to evade the assassins at every turn but as things go eventually numbers overtake skill. As all good chases seem to end Lasir watched as the assassins were mere feet behind the two escapees. Notching an arrow Lasir aimed and waited. As he watched the young boy was clipped in the leg with an arrow. As he fell his hand reached out for his friend who was still running, he landed with a scream and no sooner had he rolled onto his back the assassins were upon him. Half the group stopped where the boy had fallen and the others continued the pursuit. Following the group pursuing the girl he began to pick them off one by one until only one remained. Finally the girl had run out of room, she was cornered in a dark alley where similar fates often befall the unsuspecting. Lasir was perched directly above them two stories high. Reaching back to his quiver for an arrow his hand grasped nothing but air, he was out.
The assassin chose this moment to strike. Young though she was she was not defenseless, unorthodox and untrained perhaps, yet capable. She managed to parry the first few of the assassin’s strikes. Lasir used this time to climb down the walls of the stone buildings. As Lasir’s feet silently hit the ground her luck finally ran out. She parried a swing of the assassin’s sword but then he caught her in the stomach with his foot, as she fell to the ground her weapon clanged on the stones. Silently Lasir followed closing the distance as the assassin backed the girl up against a wall. When the assassin raised his blade to strike Lasir slit his throat from behind. He looked down at the girl who though bloodied and bruised had a hard look in her eyes. His skepticism about her valor all his questions were answered in that steely look she gave him. Without a word she stood and picked up the assassin’s blade, and then her own. Sheathing them she finally spoke. “What has happened to Carth, what has happened to my friend?” She did not ask who he was, not if she was safe, this question solidified his new view of her. “He, Carth as you call him, has fallen,” Lasir whispered. “That cannot be…I-I-we…” she trailed off and her head dropped hiding her face from Lasir’s view. “He cannot be dead” she said as her hands trembled. Trying very hard not to sound cold and detached Lasir simply replied, “I am afraid it is true young one, he has fallen, and this place is not safe for you.” She looked up at him with her piercing green eyes and said nothing, but the resolve she had shown melted away, tears formed in the corners of her eyes and though she fought the urge she could not hide it. “You must leave this place, this entire island. There are great things ahead for you, but you must go. With that he threw a small bag of gold to her and said, “I will see you safely to the docks, go now.” He slid back into the shadows and made his way to the rooftops following her all the way to the port district watching her board a ship. Once she was safely away Lasir made his way back to Nero to report the events that had transpired that evening. “The girl has made it safely onto a boat headed for the mainland. Her companion, Carth she called him, fell. He was captured by the thieves, likely dead.” “You would think so,” Nero replied, “but no he is here, they captured him, it seems that since the girl was not brought in they wanted him alive.” “She has strength my Lord. She fought valiantly, though she lost, and when I told her to go to the mainland she did without question. If she finds out he is alive she will come back for him.” “Then she must not find out. I need you to go and track her, only intervene if she truly is at an end. I do not think she is ready yet but she will be soon. I will follow along soon make sure she is unharmed.’ “Very well my Lord.” The next day Lasir packed up his scant belongings and caught a boat to the mainland to find the girl. Chapter One: Dune’s Trials Dune had been a sentinel. He was a hearty man, fiercely loyal to his comrades. He spent his time training and fighting the legions of chaos. In his last days as a sentinel things were going poorly for the order, battle after battle were utter failures, many were lost to the claws and fangs of chaos’ legions. In distress Dune went to the great cathedral and prayed for the wisdom and strength to turn the tide of the war.
While praying in the vast temple, Dune could hear echoing voices. Unintelligible but sounding sinister he decided to investigate. As he drew closer, following tunnels he hadn’t known to exist. The voices became clearer…”great will the masters reward be to you”…he crept further along the narrow corridor they continued to speak…”The hordes will soon ravage this land, and then the world will fall to us”…He couldn’t believe his ears, he rounded the final corner of the passage and found a room he could hardly look at. It was adorned by demonic gargoyles, a pentagram in the middle of the floor, and blood stains splattered on the walls. Standing over a great stone slab that served as a table he saw that the owner of the dark voice was a demon, with great horns and leathery wings.
What Dune saw next broke his spirit; his purity was washed away by a sea of rage and betrayal. None other than the great commander of the Sentinels was the willing conspirator of their sworn enemy. In a blind rage he drew his great two handed mace and with a scream of rage rushed them both. Though he had fought demons his whole life his first swing killed his mentor, stricken by surprise the demon had hardly moved when Dune brought his mace down squarely on the beasts head killing it in one mighty blow.
As the dust of the brief battle settled, Dune fell to his knees and began to weep. His friend and betrayer’s body was broken; never did he utter a final word. That night Dune left the island of chaos to its fate. He no longer cared about anyone, he had nothing to live for, and it seemed to him that his entire life had been a lie. After traveling through the ancient rune gate he wandered the mainland with nothing, he simply bore his mighty weapon, shoulders slumped down dark roads through shadowed vales. One night he heard wheezing from the side of the road and found a young woman lying beaten and barely alive...
Chapter Two: Betrayal Nahili had always caused problems; from the time she stole an idol from her village’s temple as a child to the several instances where she incited brawls in crowded streets as a young woman. She had never really been a bad person she just had problems following rules. Amazingly she made it through her childhood into adulthood mostly unscathed. She was quick of body and mind, and when that didn’t work she used her “feminine charms” to get out of trouble.
She had only one real friend in the world a fellow street brigand named Carth. Carth and Nahili constantly got into trouble and constantly managed to squirm out of paying the consequences. They moved from city to city leaving angry mobs in their wake. One night things came too close for comfort.
Carth and Nahili had gotten brash with all the “successes” they had been having, not only that they were still young and foolhardy. In the desert city of Khar they snuck into the hideout of a group of thieves that were more powerful than either could have known. They managed to sneak in and find some loot but on the way out someone caught them. They managed to escape the thieves’ hideout but were later found in the night a few blocks away. They both ran for it but Carth fell behind and was surrounded by the thieves. Nahili kept running trying to lose the group of assassins following her.
All she could do was run, though she knew the city well she took a wrong turn and found herself at a dead end. When she turned around full of fear she was relieved to see only one assassin standing in the entrance to the alleyway. She was no great fighter but she would not go down without a fight. When the assassin attacked she knew she was outmatched and it took all her effort simply to block and move. But you cannot be on the defensive forever and he managed to disarm her and knock her to the ground. Bruised and bloody she crawled away but she was still trapped, slumped against a wall she waited for death. She stared the assassin in the eyes and as he was about to strike a white handled, curved blade appeared from behind him and with a sickening splatter slit his throat. The enforcer fell to the ground attempting to gurgle out curses as the blood spilled down his front. A person in a hood stepped out of the darkness and told me that Carth had fallen, and that I needed to run far and fast.
Nahili, taking the strangers advice, knew that the city was no longer safe for her and headed to the mainland distraught at the loss of her friend. Several weeks later she was walking down a lonely road in the woods wandering where her feet and clouded mind led her. Her senses tingled and her mind cleared, someone was watching her. She drew her two small blades body tensed in anticipation. All was silent then a hiss ripped through the dark, silent night. She was struck in the leg by an arrow and fell to the ground.
By the time she looked back up she was surrounded by a group of masked thieves. “You made a mistake stealing from us, now you pay the consequences.” One of the thieves stepped forward and removed his mask. It was Carth, still badly bruised and cut. He picked her up by her hair amid the sounds of her pleading for him to stop. “You left me…and I trusted you” with this he slid his dagger into her side and dropped her to the ground. Several of the others kicked her into the ditch leaving her to die. Lying on the ground dying she felt a mixture of sadness, anger, and betrayal. She shivered in spite of the warm summer night, her eyes fluttered and she slipped into the dark respite of unconsciousness…
Chapter Three: A man reborn a new friend saved Dune set his great mace aside and slid down into the ditch. He saw a beautiful young girl covered in her own blood laying there abandoned. For the months since he had left his fellow Sentinels behind he had felt nothing, but at the sight of this girl he felt purpose again. He found the wound left by her old friend’s blade and calling once again upon the power he had thought he left behind her wounds were healed. She was still weak and had not regained consciousness so he picked her up and carried her down the lonely little road to an inn.
There Dune cared for a woman whose name he did not know. For a week and a half she remained unconscious sweating through the painful dreams that haunted her sleep. When she finally came to it was the middle of the night; Dune was asleep in a chair next to the bed and a small dying fire crackled in the fireplace. Needless to say Nahili was on edge. She stole across the room and took a dagger off the small table in the modest room. She made her way silently back across the room placing the blade of the dagger against Dune’s neck.
“To kill me would be a great kindness young lady,” years of fighting had given Dune a great awareness of his surroundings and he had known she was coming. His words were so familiar she thought for a moment that she had said them. She dropped the blade and fell to the ground weeping. Dune pulled a golden trinket to which he had affixed chain from his pocket. “I believe this is yours, I found it next to you. They hadn’t even taken what she had stolen to begin with she thought to herself as she began to cry again. The two outcasts sat together in that small inn and comforted one another. Dune told Nahili how he had found her in the ditch barely alive and how he had healed her and then nursed her back to health. They did not thank each other nor did either ask how the other had ended up where they were in life. There was a silent understanding between them, their past was irrelevant but from this time on wherever Nahili went Dune followed. For a long time the only reason they continued on was to help the other…
Chapter Four: Skyborn’s Fall Skyborn was a templar, bound to the duty of removing demonic taint from his lands as were all his brethren. The burning fires of vengeance flowed through his blood giving him power to smite his enemies. Bound to duty as he was there was still something missing from his life. He fell in love with a temple maiden despite the orders’ distaste for the situation. Eventually the two were wed and had a child. Skyborn now had a new reason to fight the evil that crept through the lands, to keep his family safe.
Skyborn was neither a funny man, nor a romantic, but loved his family with dedication and fervor and they loved him back. One evening while sleeping with his wife and child Skyborn awoke to the sound of screams and fires. He quickly donned his gear and prepared to head to the temple. His wife begged him to stay with his family but he insisted that he had a duty to protect the town. He ran out the door to the temple, there he met with his comrades and they prepared themselves for battle amongst the flames of burning buildings.
He formed up with the rest in front of the temple waiting for the battle to come. Lit by the fires of the burning town they saw their enemies coming; a great mass of brigands. Skyborn drew his blade and calling upon the fires of wrath shot a jet of flame into the gathering crowd. Then he charged forward allies behind him rushing the foolish invaders. The templar had thought that this was simply a group of brigands but they were wrong. From the tops of the buildings still standing warlocks began to cast spells upon the helpless templar causing many to loose their minds.
Standing in the middle of battle Skyborn knew that things were not going well. With the battle raging around him Skyborn stuck is sword in the ground and knelt down praying silently. In a burst of fire he was transformed and infused with the power of a seraphim, energized the remaining templar formed up around Skyborn and continued the fight. The brave guardians fought valiantly the dead of their enemies piling up around them. But their numbers were simply too great. One by one the remaining templar fell to the heathens. Finally Skyborn stood alone atop the roof of the temple fighting the intruders as they came up the steps.
Hours had passed and Skyborn was at his end, a stubborn man unable to admit defeat he took off into the night sky with the wings that the seraphim had blessed him with. Now high above the city he was shocked with disbelief everything was in ruins, it was as if the entire city were burning. The small ponds and lakes glowed red like blood with the reflected light of the fires. He dove into the town and flew just above the houses until he made his way home, at least where his home had once been. It was only a shell now, burned from the inside out. Fearing the worst he stepped through the door and saw the bodies of his son and wife burned and lifeless.
Falling to his knees he cursed himself for putting his duty ahead of his family. He vowed never to make duty more important than people he cared about, his duty would now be to them. Hearing a crowd outside he took off into the sky through the now collapsed roof. The town was overrun. The great temple itself was now on fire. He left the town flying far and fast, he was tired and beyond grief, in his manner he hid his emotions not shedding a tear, but he was forever changed… Chapter Five: Jask’s Troubles Jask was an orphan raised by monks until he was ten years old. At ten the monks would no longer keep him because they said he lacked certain traits they looked for in students, like the ability to follow the rules. Thus he was put on the street with little more than the clothes on his back. He wandered from town to town doing odd jobs and some filching to make enough to live.
One night he was bartending at the Drunken Stumble Inn working fairly regularly for a change. The entertainment for the evening was a traveling bard named Belgarath. This bard could work a crowd into a frenzy and make them dance at will. His tunes were more than words and notes; they actually lifted the spirits of the people that heard them. Jask was enthralled for the entire evening, tapping his foot to the beat as he served drinks. When the bar closed Jask approached Belgarath and asked him how he did it.
Something about Jask struck Belgarath and he basically adopted the young man. They traveled together and Belgarath taught Jask all he could, and Jask was a good student. After a time Belgarath told Jask it was time for him to make his own way and that he was headed home, to a city named Cimmura in the southeast. This had been his last tour.
Now Jask had learned much but was still himself and had a tendency to open his mouth at precisely the wrong time, an interesting trait for a bard. One night while he was playing a show he began a new song about a woman he had been “with” the previous evening. As he was playing the crowd suddenly became silent and there was a ruckus in the back of the room. I pause here to tell you that it is every bards dream to find a great hero to follow and sing the praises of.
It turns out that the woman he had bed the night before wasn’t what one would call…not married!! The ruckus at the back of the room was her husband making his way to the front of the room sword drawn, and likely not just for a haircut. Jask took a quick bow and ran out the back of the building. Still just a stupid young kid he was no fighter. The man chasing caught him and beat him until he couldn’t or maybe didn’t want to stand anymore.
The very angry man lifted his sword above his head and struck…Jask just knew he was dead…but nothing happened. He rolled over and saw that a stranger had drawn his own sword and stopped the harlot’s husband in mid strike. “Why are you attacking this boy?” The man explained the situation to the stranger, and then the stranger looked at him and asked if it was true. “Apparently, I didn’t know she was married though” was all Jask managed to squeak out. The stranger picked him up by his collar and set him on his feet. “Leave this boy alone, go home, and pay more attention to your family.” As angry as the man had been this stranger’s demeanor had made him quiver and he left without a word. A Hero… Chapter Six: Coming Together Dune and Nahili had been traveling together for a while now several months anyway, and though they were both still saddened by what they had been through their friendship made things bearable. Dune considered himself her protector, and he would never betray it, as difficult as that was considering the challenging situations that he often found himself in while following her. Nahili had told parts of her story to Dune, leaving out only Carth and his betrayal. Dune was definitely a great listener but he never told his story and she never asked. He was the strong silent type…you get the idea. She thought that part of her past was behind her. Simply put she was wrong.
There had been a brawl in the inn they were patronizing that night some idiot had slept with a counts wife and then sung about it! Anyway things had calmed down and one by one patrons were stumbling up to their rooms. The door opened and let a rush of fresh air in and standing in the entry was the idiot bard from earlier along with a man she hadn’t seen before. She giggled to herself about the whole situation and turned back to the chat she was having with Dune.
Besides the four of them the room had almost completely emptied which made the bar nice and quiet and relaxing. She asked the bard and his new friend to join them and serenade them over some drinks. They sat and talked and had a good time, except for Dune who just sat. As the evening wore on and the fire in the inn began to die the four of them began to get up to head off to sleep. At the foot of the stair Nahili was stopped by a hooded figure bow in hand quiver on his back. “I have been tracking a band of thieves, turns out they have been tracking you…they will be here soon young one.”
Nahili tensed up for a moment but then ran to Dune and told him what was going on. Dune bolted upright and picked up his great mace. Hearing the situation Skyborn also drew his blade and Jask his now loyal sidekick pulled out two of his throwing daggers. The stranger from the steps also joined them and the five friends by fortune stood in the quiet night tense and waiting.
The stranger was correct, no sooner had they pulled out their weapons the front door burst open and the windows all shattered, masked men flying through every opening. The stranger let loose an arrow as a man was coming through one of the windows effectively filling it so no one else could come through. Jask let his daggers fly and dropped a thief that had jumped up onto the bar. Nahili, Dune, and Skyborn stood next to each other waiting as Jask and the stranger continued to pick off thieves entering the building. It was almost as if the building were being flooded, but there was no water, only bodies.
As the room began to fill up Dune and Skyborn rushed forward Nahili just on their heels. Body after body fell to the ground as the new friends defended themselves from the assailants. After some time only three of the attackers were left circling the room opposite Dune and Skyborn when Jask picked one of them off with his last small dagger and the other two were backed into a corner.
Dune stepped forward and said, “Leave us…tell your masters we are dead, if we even think you are near us we will bring this fight to you.” With that he pointed his bloodied mace out the open door and they ran as quickly as they could. Hoping the thieves would take Dune’s advice they sat back down. “So, who are you stranger?” Dune asked. He responded that his name was Lasir and that he was a mercenary, a scout for hire. He had been tracking us it seems for an employer that was looking for a skilled team of fighters to go on a highly lucrative, but dangerous mission…
A brief recent history of the Brotherhood of the Phoenix as told by Nahili… We were a band of friends, brought together by fortune, loyal only to ourselves, outcast from the societies we once called home, running aimlessly through the world we cared for no one and nothing, we had no guidance or goal in life. We hunted people for money and treasures; without pride or fear….what need is there of fear when one has nothing to lose. One night while stalking our prey, an Elvin expedition lead by a mage who had found a hidden temple, our lives changed forever.
Members of the Brotherhood of the Phoenix, of the Royal Deathbringer House: Nah’ili, Wandering Ranger/Mage Skyborn, Fallen Templar Jask, Bardic Loremaster Dune, Fallen Sentinel Lasir, Master Tracker
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