Prelude
Mithril 21, 1362, Year of the Helm
On a day where the bright sun floated high in the clear sky, the sound of music and joy could be heard in the town square of Shadowdale. Many children were laughing merrily as they ran around, pretending to be famous heroes such as Elminster, or the Knights of Myth Drannor. They faced down vicious Zhentarim soldiers, and rescued beautiful damsels. While their children played, parents were gathered in many small groups, discussing the many rumors and issues of the Dalelands, ranging from the secret battles, or the whereabouts of Tethyr's crown prince.
Observing the festival on a small grassy hill was a stout, curly brown haired halfling, and his beefy, blond haired and blond bearded dwarf friend, dressed in their matching sets of white silk shirts and leather breeches.
"I must say Bowie, the town picked the right day for putting on the Springtide Festival," commented the dwarf in his gruff voice as he stroked his thick beard.
Bowie Butterball, who was leaning on his short sword Vithril, studied the many citizens who were partaking in the song and dance. "Yes it's quite fascinating Rouric," the halfling replied in his evangelical voice, "Though I haven't seen Storm anywhere."
Rouric Balderk shrugged his shoulders, then retrieved his axe from the ground next to his feet. "Probably fighting Manshoon, or something. You know Bowie, after becoming a Harper, I thought we would be given some sort of dangerous, suicidal Harper mission. And don't give me that 'these things take time' rubbish. I know you are as restless as I am."
The halfling sighed as he placed his blue hilted short sword back in its sheath. He then reached into his bag of holding and pulled out his small silver harp. "I know Rouric, my sword and harp are anxious to go and seek some danger. Perhaps even kill a Manshoon clone or two."
Rouric shook his head. Remembering his friend's history, he wondered whether Bowie was making an attempt at a joke, or being serious. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, and turned his blue eyes to the left, where he saw a familiar beautiful woman walking towards him.
Storm Silverhand, the famed Bard of Shadowdale, smiled when she approached the two Harpers who had once been her students. "Had I known you both were just going to sit back and not participate in the celebration, I would have brought you two along with me."
"And just what were you at?" Rouric asked in a curious voice.
Storm winked at the dwarf. "I was fighting Manshoon clones. But thankfully I came back in time for the festival. Could I persuade you two strong gentlemen to escort me down to the town square?"
"What do you think Bowie?" asked the dwarf, nudging his friend's shoulder. "Should we accept this dangerous mission and escort this woman to the festival?"
Bowie leaned into his friend and replied," If the Lady Bard of Shadowdale needs an escort, it must be dangerous down there. Still, there are a number of individuals who would love to be in our position Rouric."
"A number of individuals would have loved to have been in your position when you gave me that broken jaw yesterday during training Bowie," Storm remarked as she gently hit the halfling in the shoulder, then brushed back her long silver hair. Her ears picked up the sound of footsteps approaching, to which she acknowledged by drawing her long sword.
Bowie and Rouric drew their respective weapons as Storm Silverhand turned to meet the newcomer. He was a handsome man, who stood a little over six feet in height. His dark brown hair went past his ears while his dark green eyes stared intently at Storm. From head to toe he was covered in bright green silks, encrusted with jades and aquamarines. In his hands, he held a finely crafted green handled battle axe.
"It seems the stories were true when they said that Storm Silverhand had keen instincts," the man said in a soft voice. "I wonder if it's true what they say about her battle prowess"
Storm held her weapon at her side, but kept her eyes on the gentleman who advanced towards her, "Just out of curiosity my friend, what are doing here? Are you a Zhent sent here by Manshoon, or an assassin sent by Thay?"
The man in green smirked as he looked over at the female bard. "I am a merely a traveler who seeks to test his limits against the great warriors of the Dalelands. I have traveled a long way to face you Lady Silverhand. You do not have to accept my challenge, but then you not accepting my challenge just shows me that the Bard of Shadowdale isn't all that the songs and tales make her out to be."
The female bard looked at her weapon, then at the man who had just challenged her. She was about to respond to his request to fight her, when Bowie and Rouric stepped in front of her their weapons aimed at the man's chest.
"Storm, let us fight this windbag," Rouric said with a growl.
Next to him, Bowie stared at the man in green. "If he is afraid to pit himself against the students of Storm Silverhand, then he has no right to challenge Storm herself."
Listening to these words, the man swung his axe at the air three times, and then looked at the dwarf and halfling. "It seems your students are willing to lay their lives down for you Storm. Very well gentlemen, I will fight you both. However, if I survive this combat, you both must promise me that you two will seek out the land where I am from, and face a challenge similar to this one."
The two Harpers exchanged confused looks. "Where exactly is the land you speak of?" asked the halfling.
"No answers until after our fight-or rather you will have your answers when I walk away with my head intact. Now do you both swear that you will seek out my homeland?"
Both Bowie and Rouric nodded, then stepped forward and attacked. Bowie made a low slash with Vithril across the man's stomach while Rouric swung his axe hard, aiming for the man's neck.
Storm Silverhand stood back, anticipating the man in green to easily block the attacks. An expression of shock crossed her face when Bowie's sword made a deep gash in the man's stomach. She was even more stunned when Rouric's axe cut cleanly through the man's neck, separating his head from his shoulders.
When the man's headless body dropped to the ground, both Harpers looked at their stained weapons. They looked back at the man's corpse, seeing the thin stream of blood that flowed from his stomach, and the splashes of blood that squirted from where the man's head had once been.
"Well that wasn't much of a challenge," Rouric muttered as he patted Bowie on the back. Bowie nodded, but then his eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the headless corpse begin to move.
"Good attack gentlemen," commented the man in green's dismembered head just as his body ascended to its feet. "But remember your promise to seek out my land. It lies in the East near the Moonsea. Look for a place called the Black Chapel, but do not be too hasty in getting there. Wait for a year or two to get there if you have to, but do not put it off for too long."
Bowie, Rouric, and Storm stood in silence as the man's body reached down picked up the head, which continued to squirt blood from its stump. The man turned to the three Harpers and gave a polite bow. Whistling a soft tune, he turned and walked away.
"What just happened?" Rouric whispered as he watched the man in green walk into the distance.
The halfling turned to his friend and said," I think we just accepted a challenge from a god or some divine being. And no matter what Rouric, we have to see it through. Even if it takes us ten years, and even if it means the end of us."