Compendium of Tales -- by Bastien D'Sorel, Wizard of Luskan

[Griefmaker]

Preface:

I find an odd thing occurring within me. My hard earned reputation for being a rude jerk, selfish, conceited, arrogant, lacking social skills, ungentlemanly to a fault, and so on is something I have cultivated in pride for some time.

And for good reason, as I truly am a genius and my brilliance outshines most of these primitive yokels whose mental faculties are less impressive than even those of an ox.

So when Aldaron noted one of my amazing inventions, my golden quill which had been enchanted to scratch out upon parchment what I verbalized to it (admittedly, the first version had some unforeseen flaws which my cunning subconscious exploited, but three versions later I am satisfied with its function), and asked me to bear witness and record the events of an upcoming quest, I was ecstatic.

After all, what a glorious chance to record my own brilliance for all to read about!

Yet due to events and unforeseen influences upon me primarily by three individuals, I find my initial reaction is pushed aside as I instead seek to relate the tales of others as they partake in various interesting or even heroic encounters. Note that not all I shall write about will be of one man overcoming an army or great deeds such as that. What I write about are happenings large and small with which I have found some measure of interest in.

My intention is to witness and record more tales as I come across them and deem them entries worthy of being included into this compendium.

To Kyana, Aldaron, and Ljudia,
Damn all three of you for corrupting my selfish soul enough that I choose to follow this path: to glorify other's accomplishments instead of my own. As an aside, my apologies miss Ljudia for the foul language. There is no need to get the illusionary soap for me to wash my dirty mouth out with again.

Note that the format of these tales is more in the shorter form of verse for easier verbal recital. Thus it may be a bit visually jarring to read, though I have no doubt those of even the meanest fortitude can tolerate the discomfort for the rewards that lay within.

[Griefmaker]

Of Goudhir and Aldaron and the Ill-Fated Adventure

As scribed by Bastien D’Sorel, Wizard of Luskan

And so it came to pass that the rugged hunter Aldaron and the master mage Goudhir gathered up their companion and narrator of this tale, a budding wizard still green to the isle, and set forth to discover the mystical and highly sought after mineral adamantine.

Their destination was not a fearsome disease contracted from comforts found upon Cordor’s docks as initially guessed, but instead a place of flame and acid and terror: The Burning Shores.

Ere a single step could be taken in this great task, disaster most grievous struck! For the exceptionally powerful Goudhir, wielder of the primal energies of raw magic, conjured forth in his might a volcano...and so ended the narrator and thus their journey was halted.

But not all was lost, despite their primary task faltering. For humility and most importantly the fear of death was birthed for some and reinforced greatly amongst others, and both are traits to be lauded amongst the living things of the lands.

[Griefmaker]

Of Aldaron and the Banishment of the Soul-Killer

As scribed by Bastien D’Sorel, Wizard of Luskan

And so it came to pass that the rugged hunter Aldaron met with his wizard companion and narrator of this tale in a place of blackness and madness. A place where the light flees from the dark and where reality is as warped as the twisted landscape: The Plane of Shadow.

For Aldaron, ‘twas a returning. Not one filled with happy memories of a joyous past. Nay, for the rugged hunter, he returned to the birthplace of a blackness deeper and darker than the shadows themselves. Here was a place of great failure, one which haunted him still.

The last time Aldaron journeyed with many others, all seasoned veterans of exceptional skill, including the Commander of Cordor’s Guard. Their tale ended foully, as the darkness and shadow proved too great a threat and the company knew fatal catastrophe.

That day a great shadow settled upon Aldaron’s heart. For he knew doubt, that which slowly gnaws upon one’s soul with an insidious delight until the soul has been vanquished. And he feared his strength would falter again and thus he would fail in his duty and others trust.

Grimly he gripped his great battle axe and hefted his stout shield whilst he waited for his wizard companion, the only one he trusted at his side to help combat and overcome his hated doubt, to finish what meager magical preparations they might have.

‘Twas not magic that would win this personal battle, but the strength of heart and arm of the rugged hunter. Determination steeled his eye and firmed his jaw as he led the tiny company east from the shadow of Wharftown, which would follow more the path south in the Prime.

Fiends of shadow and spider shades fell aside from the fierce might of the rugged Aldaron until the tiny company reached their destination, that where hope had faltered previously. A great dreary library along the western coast, a place where lies a gang hideout in the Prime.

Careful plans were laid out, for here three sought to do what a half dozen could not. And whilst Aldaron was a man of great strength and masterful skill as were his former companions, now he relied upon himself, a wizard of minor strength, and a conjured elemental as support.

Step by cautious step the tiny company crept through the great ominous library. When the shadows congealed into a wraithlike specter or spidery creature, they were swiftly dispersed into the nothingness of death under the fury of the rugged hunter’s merciless bow and battle axe.

Doom nearly befell them three times. Yet Aldaron, fueled by his rage at the previous failure and the demand to overcome the ever-gnawing doubt, was bolstered by the wizard’s magic which seemingly caused him to become more than merely mortal whilst the foe was demoralized and slowed.

The most notable brush with doom occurred when the wizard carelessly wandered too near to a chest guarded over by the statue of a dragon. When the statue moved and proved to be a shadow dragon, all was lost until the doughty Aldaron faced it down and laid it low in a duel to the death.

Narrow stone bridges crossing great chasms which fell into the black abyss lead to the place where the soul-killer doubt was spawned. Awaiting the tiny company lay a small army hidden in the shadows to ambush the unwary and under-prepared.

The rugged hunter was not taken by surprise, however, for his keen eye detected the nearly imperceptible signs of danger lurking in the darkness, eagerly awaiting to repeat the past. And leading them was a great monstrosity of shadow and fear, hungry to feast upon its new victims.

No mere wraith was this fell leader either. Nay, its cruelty and depravity saw it continually replenishing itself from a protected soul gem which stored the life energies and souls of former victims. And yet, the doughty Aldaron did not shy back. For this was his destiny.

The first casualty was the crystal soul gem, the great reservoir of the shadow monstrosity’s power. The great crack as the crystal shattered from the impact of an arrow was a whisper as compared to the hate-filled scream of the leader who ordered his army to attack in vengeance.

Aldaron’s bow sang a song of death for the foe as many creatures fell to a shower of arrows. Inhumanly fast did the hunter draw and release, yet even this barrage of death was not enough to halt the shadowy army which sought the tiny company’s end.

Tossing aside his bow, the mighty hunter took up axe and shield and stood firm upon the narrow bridge, single handedly protecting the wizard and elemental from certain death. Each time a dark creature faced Aldaron, they were swept aside by ferocious strokes of his great axe.

At last the foe broke ranks and quailed in fear. Though ‘twas not the fierce wrath of Aldaron which forced them back, but that of the great shadow monstrosity who glided forward, intent upon siphoning the immense strength of the hunter to fuel a new soul gem to replace the old.

Long and brutal was the fight, with neither giving the other an ounce of quarter. Twice did it appear the mighty Aldaron would not succeed in his quest, only to redouble his efforts with renewed fury until at last the great shadow monstrosity was felled and Aldaron stood over it as the victor.

And in the unending darkness a light bloomed. Not one of heat or brilliance like a torch, but one within the great rugged hunter, which burned away the shadow of doubt that had been plaguing him.

Henceforth, he knew he could rely once more upon his own might and skill, for they would not fail him. His trust in himself had been restored. And so the tiny company departed that dreary library, guided by the quietly confident Aldaron the Indomitable, towards what destiny awaited him next.

[Griefmaker]

Of Ljudia and the Quest for the Silver Bough

As scribed by Bastien D’Sorel, Wizard of Luskan

And so it came to pass one dark night of foul weather that a wizard and narrator of this tale found himself wandering the Cultural District of Cordor near the tavern the Lilting Lotus and came upon a curious sight.

In the shadows of deep night a ray of sunshine lit the plaza, though its brilliance was muted by billowing clouds of uncertainty, doubt, and fear. For the pretty young half-elven maiden Ljudia stood shivering in the deluge as she anxiously stared at the door of the foreboding tavern.

The gentle maiden informed the wizard of her distress when inquired and ‘twas a thing of fearsome nightmare. The lady longed to escape the cruelest of weather and black night to seek warmth, companionship, and especially food. Yet two things held her back.

Lack of coin, ever the equalizer of all people who are in need, and even more potent was a fear of what lay behind the door. For the gentle maiden spoke fearfully of former years, when the place was a den of villainy and not the sort of locale a gentlelady in need would willingly visit.

Alas for the fair Ljudia, ‘twas not what lay behind the door, but in the plaza that turned out to be her primary concern, as the wizard proved to be quite the uncouth ruffian of the coarsest caliber, a wretch of foul language and ungentlemanly demeanor, a cur, and most unsettling, a jerk.

Yet the gentle maiden was undaunted. Nary a hair upon her sodden golden head was ruffled as she fended off the unwanted assault. No weapon did she bear, nor any spell did she invoke. Nay, Ljudia, the fair and gentle musician-maiden, fought with a weapon few can withstand.

She smiled.

The plaza blazed with light at the smile, like a dozen golden suns suddenly unveiling themselves. Forgotten was the chill of the soaking downpour. Ignored was the darkness, which could hide any manner of danger lurking in the shadows and plotting evil deeds.

The ruffian wizard too was caught off-guard by the act, a weakness the gentle Ljudia pounced upon immediately. Through subtle wit and genuine sweetness and kindness, she innocently ensorcelled the fiend and broke through his crusty exterior to delve into what compassion lay within.

And so the ruffian wizard’s loutish heart was soothed and under her spell he offered his aid. Coin and food aplenty could he provide. But nay, for the gentle Ljudia’s primary wish was to be out of the bone-chilling cold. A fact she signified not through words, but through a sorrowful shiver.

Yet was the nearby tavern a sanctuary or a den of iniquity? That thought weighed upon the maiden musician’s heart and so the decision was made to seek out a rumored haven of wonder. A new and mysterious tavern only recently spoken of known as The Silver Bough.

Her sweet voice had only just bespoke that suggestion ere she was whisked away by her ruffian wizard companion. Alas his lack of wisdom, for he spirited the maiden out of the cold tempest and into a freezing landscape high up in the mountains: the dwarf home Brogendenstein.

The slight maiden immediately almost turned into a lovely ice-sculpture and surely would have delighted the dwarves for a century, but was rescued from that frigid fate by the ruffian wizard who called upon a charm to warm her the moment he saw her delicate shivering return tenfold.

Little did the ruffian wizard know that the brief moments of anguished distress along with the simple genuine gratitude from the gentle Ljudia would pound yet another nail into the coffin of his horrid demeanor. For ever so slowly did the fair Ljudia begin to melt his icy heart.

With their path laid out before them, the gentle maiden and her ruffian wizard companion set off down the Thousand Stair path and along the high hills of the Nexus Falls. ‘Twas only short moments ere they fell afoul of another great challenge bent on testing their resolve.

The many streams and waterfalls which cascade down the Nexus Falls caused the pair to gasp in beauty, with the gentle Ljudia’s smile at the sight delighting all about them, yea, even the birds who sang to her in the hopes of capturing her attention, if only briefly.

Whilst the ruffian wizard waded a stream without thought, for the waters parted about him as if repulsed by his heinous demeanor, the gentle Ljudia instead frowned briefly and eyed the distance from bank to bank. Her intention was to jump so as to not get wet and then freeze in the frosty air.

Yet her momentary frown spurred her ensorcelled companion to action. For he judged the distance too far and despite initially chafing at his actions, so deeply was he finding himself under her spell that he shed the mantle of the ruffian and slung instead that of the protector about himself.

Ere she could make a catastrophic move, Ljudia found herself hoisted up into his arms as he cradled her protectively against his chest and bore her across the treacherous stream intent on claiming the fair maiden as its victim.

Once across the gentle Ljudia’s expectations were to be deposited upon the other side, but little did she realize her own power, for the protector wizard refused to release her, choosing instead to be her beast of burden so as to ensure her comfort and safety.

With her customary grace and sweetness, the gentle maiden accepted her fate and favored her impromptu beast of burden with all of her trust that he would do as promised. And so she laid her fair head upon his chest and was born away.

Her unintended spell she continued to weave as they traveled the lush and lovely landscape, her words and actions like the tendrils of a creeping plant as she wormed through any remaining barbarism within companion with her own genuine sincerity, eagerness, and kindness.

At last they came upon what would be their final trial in their quest. For they discovered the broken body of a nixie, the poor fey a victim of the brutish ettins. The pair bore the tiny corpse away in order to find a suitable site for a burial.

By the waterside they came and at last the beast of burden, at his mistress’ tender urging, set down his precious package. The tiny creature was laid to rest in the soil by the water and kind words were spoken. And Ljudia, the gentle musician maiden, wept as she worked.

Her tears, those of an angel which should never be shed, broke the last remaining threads of defiance within her companion and he knew shame at his coarseness and sought redemption. Hesitantly, he sought to emulate Ljudia’s kindness and rested a consoling hand upon her shoulder.

Once more in her innocence, her sincere gratitude at his gesture reinforced her companion’s desire to no longer be the boor, but someone who would strive as best they could to make others know joy instead of sorrow.

With the mournful deed completed, the pair turned their backs to the south, for just ahead lay what they sought. The Silver Bough tavern. Despite their relief, somber was their rejoicing due to that final trial. Still, their quest had been a success at last.

More than simply reaching their goal, the truest victory in the quest was Ljudia’s. Though her gentle innocence likely left her ignorant to just how profoundly powerful she is, by simply being herself, she was able to change the nature of a man from someone horrid, to someone better than they were.

[Griefmaker]

Of the Hoodwinking of King Scabface

As scribed by Bastien D’Sorel, Wizard of Luskan

And so it came to pass that two adventuring wizards materialized upon a stone dais in the northern part of the Bramble Woods. The cunning Kyana and her wizard companion, the narrator of this tale, blinked into being and were immediately beset by a massive goblin enraged and hungry for blood.

The great goblin strode forth wielding weapons twain which bathed the area about it with the fell glow of wickedness. Markings about him silently screamed his glories and named him something to be feared. For this was no peon grunt, but the proudly proclaimed King Scabface.

“Yous stops!” screamed the mighty King, which caused the cunning Kyana and her rascal wizard companion to pause uncertainly, for nary a goblin had spoken more than “Wes kills yous!” afore. After all, a clear thinking and possibly sane goblin was something to not trifle with idly.

And as the pair stopped, the great King Scabface eyed the pair over. “Slaves mes wants, so slaves yous bes. Mes gots too many females, but needs more like hes!” The great King cackled as the rascal wizard’s doom was pronounced with the fearsome pointing of a fell weapon.

‘Twas then that the cunning Kyana stepped forth, appearing both meek and mild. With features placid and demeanor calm, she addressed the goblin. “Surely Great King Scabface, terror of the wood, by what means might we placate thee, as if any soul could?”

But King Scabface was not fooled by her gentle words and screamed with weapons brandished “Yous quiets! Yous quiets, or mes cut yous!” For this goblin was no fool, but secure in his authority, as these humans trespassed in his lands which his nearby castle oversaw.

The cunning Kyana and her rascal wizard companion were understandably taken aback, especially considering they had just immolated quite dramatically dozens of goblins, including the former “king” during a raid of the fort which they had just completed.

Yet the cunning Kyana knew better than to mention their previous actions, but instead desperately wracked her brain as the great King Scabface slowly, but inexorably approached the pair with wicked intent. ‘Twas then her lovely face lit up as a plan unfolded within her mind.

“Oh great King Scabface, most feared tyrant of the wood. Our lives are yours to take as you wish. But allow me to bring tale of four foes who demand your doom. For we came across a band of elves intent to infiltrate and slay all they came upon, with your name spoken specifically!”

King Scabface grew enraged at the idea, but quickly calmed himself, for what if this pair were trying to lie their way out of his trap. Suspicion aroused the goblin as he spat “Yous lies! Mes cuts yous!” Then ran to the nearby path to look for signs of passage, which he found not.

The cunning Kyana maintained her naïve act and plead with outstretched hands to the goblin “Nay, great King! My words ring true! For elven rangers are master of the wood and their hatred of goblins was ripe for all to see. Just as yours is for their pointed ears.”

Once more the great King Scabface’s wrath was visible to see. Hatred caused his beady eyes to glow as his wily face swiveled between the pair he desired before him and his castle where the possibility of a greater prize lay: elven ears as trophies and elven flesh for his cookpot.

With a shout of rage the great King Scabface plowed into the trees intent to defend his castle and kill the elven intruders, though spat such a vile curse over his shoulder that the fury of it physically propelled the cunning Kyana and her rascal wizard companion backwards.

Kyana wasted no time knowing that her brilliant impromptu deception would soon be discovered. She collected her wizard companion and spirited them both to the south where the safety of the city lay.

And as they fled a cry of outrage echoed through the woods, for the great King Scabface uncovered the truth of the masterfully contrived lie and shouted for all to hear “Curse yous and crush yous! Mes will cuts yous!”