Some few years after the fall of Baal, Lord of Destruction…
Visitors from all parts of the land gathered at the Rogue Encampment.
Only it wasn't the same old encampment anymore, it was more of a fortress.
After the fall of the Prime Evils, the Rogues had much time to recover, and to
rebuild their home. Now, towering stonewalls replaced the previous wooden
fences; beautiful stone tiles replaced the mushy wet ground. There was now a
proper entrance, lined with (wo)manned towers that see the approaching enemy,
large bright red flags that scream pride and roar power with each flap in the
wind, and most impressively, a giant steel gate that open and close with
monstrous clanking sounds.
The place grew, but the traffic grew even more. Quiet soggy nights spent
at Akara's (for she was the closest thing to a tavern- she kindly attempted to
brew potions that had some sort of alcoholic taste, but the failing result
turned out to have the same use as a thawing potion, which has no use
whatsoever) turned into hearty hours of laughter and chatter at the new bar.
The constantly cramped place, owned by a fellow named Geglash, was called 'The
Fallen Stools'.
Outside those doors was a quiet, cool night, undisturbed by the madness
in the barroom. Here were mostly warriors, adventurous and ready to hunt for
remaining hidden rewards first thing in the morning. But they remained quiet
and thoughtful, only using speech when necessary, like when dealing with the
local blacksmith and the greedy caravan tradesman.
Around a warm campfire sat a couple of these warriors, preparing their
weapons, counting their gold, talking quietly, or just enjoying the warmth.
The comfortable silence was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a
tall man in dark green robes. Emerging from the shadows, his face safely
covered by his hood, he scanned the three long logs for a vacant seat. Finding
none, he took his place on a bulky rock close to the fire.
There was an abrupt silence. All the quiet chattering stopped; all hands
were still for a moment- the warriors' eyes scanned the new figure up and down
a few times, but everything was hidden under the robes. Even the usually quiet
and uncaring necromancers looked up. For a moment, people thought another
necromancer had joined them, but after a few seconds of careful sniffing, no
hint of decaying flesh or any other usual necromancer stenches were found. No
weapons were visible outside the cloak, where they were usually kept for easy
access.
A small-sized Barbarian finally spoke up. "The fireplace is for warriors
at this hour. Do us a favour and kindly take your leave," he said in a rather
high-pitched and sarcastic tone. "Oh, here is a bronze coin for your Knight's
Ale, a drink suited for your kind of people." With a snicker, he flipped him
the coin, hoping to make him leave if he was just some old beggar, or if he was
a warrior, see the colour of his skin when his hand caught it. (Note: Knight's
Ale is a drink for old alcoholics who couldn't afford a proper drink. It is brewed
from street rats, and is given a fancy name to attract drunks.)
The man himself was the only one to laugh at the play of words; the
other warriors only watched nervously. Knowing his trick, the man made no
effort to catch the coin. As a result, it bounced softly off his knee and into
the big fire. The Barbarian didn't even flinch. What use does a bronze have
anyway?
"Oh I'm a warrior," he said calmly, with no hint of anger. He slowly
removed his hood, finally satisfying the crowd's curiousity. The stranger was a
male in his early thirties, which was surprising, as mostly young warriors
(with the exception of old necromancers) sought for action and adventure here.
He had short, light blonde hair, which reminded many of the folks around
him of eagles. He bore a handsome, experienced face, unshaven for many days.
Small eyes of cold, icy blue contrasted his pale face. When he was young, he
might have been a lady-killer. But now his face was rough from travelling, and
the few light scars proved he was indeed a warrior.
The female warriors, even the assassins, admired his face. The males,
however, were more interested in the piece of jewellery around his neck. With
no hood to hide it, it laid against the stranger's chest firmly. The fire lit
it only dimly under the "V" of his cloak, but the limited view was enough to
amaze. Its design was heavenly, unlike any amulets they had seen before. Its
quality was far finer than anything made in Lut Gholein.
Noticing the deadly attention on his necklace, he offered his soft laugh
again. It seemed he was proud and had nothing to hide, for he reached under his
cloak and pulled out the big piece of pale gold. It seemed heavy in his hands.
He juggled it a few times, and their eyes moved up and down with it. The gentle
jingle of the chains brought the females out of their trance, and they saw the
amulet for the first time. They were equally amazed, if not more.
"A gift from the heavens," he agreed with a laugh. It was funny because
it was true.
"Where did you get it?" a young Druid asked. Not 'who are you?'
but 'where did you get it?'. Their original intentions were quickly
swept away by this strange ornament.
The other young Druid beside him demanded quickly and harshly why he had
just asked that. But the truth was he also wanted to know- they all desperately
wanted to know, but they had already grown cautious of this stranger.
"In Túr Dúlra, city of Túr Dúlra," he said with a distracted smile,
tilting the amulet slowly for the best reflection of light. The eyes of his fellow
warriors grew enormously big as they discovered something else on the prized
amulet: a single blue bulb of jewel. It was much more beautiful than any
'perfect' sapphires in the world.
More importantly however, it was alive. There seemed to be things
moving inside the jewel. As they all leaned closer, the stranger quickly seized
it with his whole hand, blocking off any greedy eyes. The act was so quick that
they all jumped back, snapping back to their old selves, and then realizing
what they were just doing.
This crowd is so easy.
Total attraction shrank back to curiousity, but they were still drawn to
that amulet. Instead of putting it back through his collar, he lifted it off
his neck and held it in his lap for a moment. The people around him shot short
glances at it this time, afraid that their minds would somehow become slaves of
the amulet if they looked at it too long.
The older of the two Druids who sat directly across from the stranger
was able to keep up his guard. Although his eyes often wandered on that piece
of mystery, they always returned to the man's face. He observed that the amulet
wasn't just any magical charm that gave normal bonuses to the wearer. The
moment he took it off, the colour of his face didn't drain to indicate that it had
any health bonuses, the energies around him didn't fade to suggest a loss in
spiritual self, his eyes didn't grow dimmer to show a weakening of eyesight,
etc. In his mind, he concluded that it was an instrument of much greater
caliber.
What this young warrior had in might made up for what he had in
awareness. It was his less mature companion who actually paid attention to what
the stranger said.
"Túr Dúlra?! You mean the legendary Druid College Túr Dúlra?! Where the
oak of oaks Glór-an-Fháidha is situated? Me and my friends have been trying to
get in that college, but the seats always go to the locals!" he burst out in
one breath. "I have always wanted to see the forests of Túr Dúlra! Is it
beautiful like in the books? Do they grow strange fruits and trees there? Do
they live amongst exotic animals?"
"Túr Dúlra must be a beautiful place," the other Druid quickly agreed,
trying to contain his excitement. "I've seen wonderful paintings of it."
The others were focused on the amulet on his lap but many of them were
intrigued by this seemingly perfect paradise. The stranger finally took the
thing off his lap, and gestured it to the sorceress that sat closest to him.
She gasped and slowly replaced his hold on the chains.
To this he smiled. "Let us pass this around, if you are all interested
in it." Then he returned his focus to the Druids. "Yes, it is a beautiful
land." This they already knew, but their hearts leapt as if every pretty detail
of Túr Dúlra had been described to them. They let themselves drift off to a Túr
Dúlra built with the rumours they heard, paintings they saw, and solutions to
their troubles in life.
The stranger then slapped his hands on his laps and let out a sign.
Everyone looked up, as if they were now under his command.
"If you are so intrigued by Túr Dúlra, I think I have a story that would
do well to satisfy your curiousity," he began. And in attempt to add more
excitement, he included, "and it is also the tale about how I got that piece of
jewellery," as if something that would reveal more about himself wasn't enough.
"Would you like to hear it?" he asked around. In their hearts they were
screaming yes, but they all kept back, hoping for someone else to say it for
them. "The night is still young, and the fire is well and growing. There is
nothing better than a campfire story on a starry night."
"Yes! Please tell!" a young Amazon yelped out. Realizing everyone else
was silent, she looked around and blushed.
Another sudden outburst came, this time from the younger Druid. "Wait a
minute! Túr Dúlra is the capital of the Druids! It is safely hidden, and well
guarded! And outsiders have a hard time of surviving. So please tell how you
acquired that strange ornament of yours and still stand breathing before us!"
"But I am no outsider…" he said. Many brows shot up. Seconds later, they
themselves shot up in their seats as the dark green cloak covering him slowly
morphed into dark lush leaves, which then was carried away in a sudden,
amazingly strong gush of wind.
"I think we should drop all secrets now; secrets ruin stories, in my
opinion." He smiled. This time it was a sincere smile. "Even if you don't want
to listen, I need to tell. I think telling this tale to a live audience is
better than telling it to a flower."
"And I don't think I will get another relaxed word out of you all
tonight. So, if you don't want to listen, leave the fire, there is warmth in
the tavern if you really need it." No one budged, and he smiled again. It was a
smile to die for. "Alright, I am Byrshk, son of Ywvck, and Druid of the sky. I
believe we've been well met. Here is my tale." He put one palm on the front of
his neck, and bowed.
(Author's thang: I admit this was a slow beginning, with VERY/too much
detail. But it just sets up for the fun later. I see a very glorious and
exciting adventure ahead. Just to keep you excited, there will be Druids
competing against each other in different animal forms in a tournament,
creating a sort of "pokemon battle" feeling.
And I won't
purposely ask for reviews, because I know if you liked the story, you will feel
the urge to review. But no reviews is no fun, so basically I've said nothing!
Next chapter will come if I get enough feedback!)
