"Through the heart," said Gerald as he first pantomimed an archer drawing a bow and taking aim, and then halfway through his performance decided to switch it to a crossbow shot to be more dramatic. "Doesn't matter how big or tough you are, but a shot through the heart will bring down any beast, be it draconic or of the more mundane variety."

"What about its scales?"

"Aren't its rib cage bones supposed to be as strong as stone?"

"Don't they use magic to deflect missiles?"

"I heard Prince Aaron favors the sword. Is a sword long enough to pierce through to its heart? "

Gerald shook his head smugly at the crowd. "I'm sure the Prince will use a spear, or a lance or something of that sort. Besides striking it in the heart, one also has to prey on the dragon's other weakness…its boundless arrogance."

Most of the crowd murmured in hush tones, but a short cloaked woman that he did not recognize near the back snorted in contempt at that statement. Gerald rolled his eyes visibly at the woman as he ignored her. He was an artist, someone that puts his reputation and career on the line with each performance, a net contributor to enlighten these simple village folk, while she was simply a critic, someone that risked nothing and only clawed at the feet of giants.

"As I was saying, often a dragon's downfall is its pride. While the beast could simply fly in the air and drop rocks and boulders on its attackers or more dramatically rain fire or lightning, or whatever fell breath it possesses on our heroic Prince, these prideful monsters would prefer to battle it out with tooth and claw. Man to lizard. They not only want to test themselves, but to show to all the world their strength and power. Why defeat a hero when you can humiliate him? Why defeat his challengers today, when he can frighten the masses for a year?"

One of the smaller children listening to his story started to shake. It began with a quivering of his lips, but then blossomed to all out bawling. Gerald sensed that he might have gone too far with that last little flourish.

"The odds favor the beast immensely, but that's not to say a dragon is invincible. With a bit of planning and preparation, even the most fearsome beast can be laid low. How else do you explain that most Black dragons have been hunted to near extinction in the Trolless fens and the Xaber Swamps, and the last major sighting of a red dragon was a hundred years ago. Magda the terrible hag queen of the north was slain by Sir Jose of the Green Hound, atop a flying castle if you can believe it. I've even heard stories of professional dragon hunters in the east, but fortunately for us we have our Prince to protect us, not some high and snooty over paid foreigners."

The crowd clapped and cheered. Gerald was hoping the woman that interrupted him earlier would see how 'right' he was, and how 'wrong' she was. Sadly, she had left, probably fleeing in shame before the jeers of the masses would silence her.

"Has Prince Arron slain many dragons?"

"Is he going to slay it alone or will he bring his Silver Guard with him."

"How do you become a Silver Guard?"

"Are there five members of the Silver Guard, or are there spares? Reserves?"

"Is Prince Aaron going to marry Lady Tessa of the Silver Guard or does she have to be a Princess?"

Gerald ignored the questions, and simply held out his wide brimmed hat. Normally he would indulge his audience, sharing his knowledge or making it up as he went. He loved to engage the crowd to get a stronger artistic rapport with them, but he saw activity at the inn, and decided now was the right time. After collecting a few meager coppers, he tipped his head at one of the more generous old ladies, and slipped away in a pink puff of smoke.

Gerald was a bard, and he was going places, or at least that was his plan. While most consider a dragon on the borderlands a bad thing, Gerald saw opportunity. Though Gerald was the furthest thing from an actual Dragon Slayer, he knew that legitimate monster slayers would be drawn to this creature's appearance. It was his plan to latch onto such a group, aid them with his bardic abilities, and then 'cash in' like a proper hero with a share of the dragon's immeasurable wealth.

But more important to him than gold or jewels would be to bear witness to the deed. In the past he had watched the town guard drive away an ogre and some local hunters put down a dire wolf. Both events he spun into grand tales, and received many a coin whenever he recounted those deeds. After a few retellings he even added a few embellishments like pixies riding the wolf, and two heads on the ogre to spicen things up and recalled fondly being invited to the mayor's dance and even a few noble and merchant manors just to perform his ballad. If he had the chance to witness an actual dragon being slain, he would be set up for life, and given that the dragon slayers in question weren't some grubby mercenary types or outlaw adventurers, but the Prince of Westholding himself, he could practically envision the invitations to the big city and to court to ply his trade, and to woo the ladies.

He had already worked it out. He would introduce himself to the Prince, regale him of his tales of pixie riding wolves and two headed ogres, and then off he would go to watch the Prince and his men battle the dragon. It might take a day or two, but Gerald was prepared for that. He had packed a light lunch and also received a hefty wedge of cheese for his retelling of the 'Orange Hero' this morning, but regardless of how long it would take he would get his tale.

As Gerald hurried to the inn to meet his destiny, his path was barred by a mob of roughly fifty dirty commoners that wanted to catch a glimpse of the Prince.

"Excuse me, excuse me," he pleaded as he attempted to push his way past.

"Get in line," said Inga. The squat old woman then elbowed him back. "I want to see the handsome Prince."

Gerald couldn't believe it, his fame and fortune were slipping away from him as his path was being barred by some old hag. He attempted to shove her out of the way, but his delicate arms were no match for the old woman's strength. Inga simply elbowed him much forcefully this time, and sent him crashing into the muddy road.

Gerald scrambled to get up, and was nearly pushed to the ground again as the mob shifted.

"Make way! Make way for Prince Aaron," shouted a strong feminine voice. While Gerald couldn't see, he was sure that was Lady Tess, the famed leader of the Silver Guard that had been linked romantically to the Prince in so many stories. It was tragic really. Despite her station she couldn't actually marry the Prince, since she was common born. It did make for a racy tale and Gerald considered adapting his own version of it. He needed a Princess somewhere to make it a neat love triangle, and wondered if he could simply invent one to fit his story. Or better yet, perhaps a twist to the story. Maybe Lady Tess was attracted to some rugged stranger…a bard maybe?...and the Prince was the one that was trying to win her affection.

As Gerald considered his tale, he realized that the crowd and presumably the Prince was getting ahead of him. He scrambled to his feet and saw the large backside of the old lady. His way was barred once again.

But…Gerald was clever. From the direction the crowd was shuffling, he guessed they were making their way to the watch tower. That meant that if he was fleet of foot, he could race his way around the inn and past Edd's Sundries to wait for them there.

While Gerald was a bard, a profession famed for being skilled at many different talents, however he was honest with himself and his abilities. He couldn't dance, act, or sing, but he could tell a story though not in the way he wanted. That was still a work in progress for him. Beyond a little prestidigitation tricks, he wasn't that good with magic. Some smoke and lights were the extent of that discipline. Melee combat was also a no-no. He had a rapier he bought from a drunken man from North Darokin, but it was mostly for show. Often the sight of it would scare would be thieves. He drew it only once, and that was to chase off a terrier sized toad by the river, but his drawing technique was….flawed….and he ended up stabbing his foot instead. Stealth was also off the table for Gerald. He was a self-admitted show boat, and the thought of rendering oneself unseen was abhorrent to him. He guessed he could stay quiet if he really needed to, but five minutes at best was where he judged his own limit. Given all his professional setbacks, there was one thing that he was good at, and that was being fleet of foot. A most important skill for a bard to have considering everything he did was subpar.

Given his unprecedented sprinter's ability, Gerald easily ran around the Greenmaiden Tavern, dashed past the general store, and skipped the last lengths towards the tower before the stocky old woman could bar his path again. Breathing heavily, Gerald combed back his hair with his fingers, attempting to present a charming image to the Prince before he was recruited.

"Out of the way! Make way for the Prince!" barked a tall woman in silver armor, leading a half dozen similarly attired knights followed by a mob of adoring villagers.

Despite her stern face, Gerald was stunned by her beauty. Her wavy creamy brown hair, steely blue eyes, and dazzling white teeth. Surely this was the famous Lady Tess, paladin of Nirrodin and constant companion to Prince Arron. Instead of falling back as ordered, he mustered the courage and stood in the maiden's path.

"Greetings…I am Gerald of the honeyed voice, or as the locals call me Gerald the Magnificent. I am here to offer my services to our liege…."

Gerald wasn't sure what happened next, but he think it either involved Lady Tess slamming her shield into his chest, or her boot connecting to her stomach. Both parts hurt equally, so he guessed it might have been both.

Gerald gasped to recover his breath and scrambled out of the mud again, but found himself surrounded by adoring villagers. He attempted to push them out of the way, throwing elbows like that hag did earlier, but was once again tossed back into the mud by previously mentioned old woman.

"No….Prince! My Prince! I offer my services to you!" he cried, as he watched the Silver guard mount up. Four of them had their horses readied by Ed the stableboy, while Lady Tess, and a delicate looking youth with short blond hair and a simple golden circlet, simply summoned glowing white horses to them from out of thin air. The crowd gasped in wonder before applauding and cheering the Silver Guard and their Prince as they rode out into the forest. To face the marauding dragon….without him.

Gerald wiped the grime off his face and wide brimmed hat, as he picked himself out of the mud for a third time. His chance for treasure and eternal fame had spurned his offer, but he wasn't deterred. While he considered that they might reject his immeasurable skills, he was a local and knew the land, so he that going for him. At the very least, he could simply follow the dragonslayers as they went about their business, witness their victory and then write a grand ballad about it.

They couldn't stop him from following them into the forest. They didn't own the forest.

Well technically it was the King's forest and the Prince did own it, but he didn't make a decree forbidding anyone to follow. It was true that most avoided the forest due to the dragon, and there was a chance he might get in the way if a fight turned sour and there was jets of flame tossed about, but this wasn't about personal safety. It was about art!

"Well that didn't go well," said a voice followed by a familiar snort to his side.

Before Gerald turned, he already recognized her. It was the cloaked woman from his earlier performance. She was wearing a simple grey traveller's cloak, and had a short dark hair and a youthful circular face. With her round saucer eyes, she seemed more of a girl than a woman, but there was an odd commanding self-assured presence about her.

"You are an amusing fool, but you clearly know this area."

Gerald had no time for her taunts. The Prince and his guard were on horseback, while he was on foot. There was no time to waste if he was going to catch them and complete his tale. He simply shook off as mud as he can from himself and pressed onwards to the forest.

"Begone harpy! I don't have time for you!"

"I won't take up too much of your time. I have a gold for you, if you tell me about this dragon that plagues your town," she said as she held out a shiny Grommish Crown.

Gerald stopped and stared at the golden coin. That was about a month's worth of busking and performing for his meals.

"Well, maybe I have a little time for you."