A/N: And here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Dungeons and Dragons. I only own my original ideas.
Chapter 8: Storytime
Our strange group of 5 made our way to the edge of the forest, arriving at a campsite. I watched as they sat down and lit the campfire, and soon joined them. As the sun set, we began to converse.
"So, Valignatirisk, was it? What's your story?" asked Narcrath.
"Well, my life started out on a bad note," I said, "from the moment I hatched, my father held a certain measure of ire towards me".
"Why?" asked Narcrath.
"Because I was the runt of the clutch," I said, "He ingrained the same ire he held towards me into my siblings. They drove me out when I was only about a year old".
Krisyra unleashed a string of what I could only assume were Elven profanities, before being calmed by her companions.
"I nearly ended up in some mad mage's menagerie, before being rescued by Quoros, a Gnomish Wizard. He became a good friend and mentor, along with Baeshra".
"Baeshra… you wouldn't perhaps mean Baeshra the Wildheart, Hero of the Green and Bane of Wyrms!?" asked Krisyra, "They say he fought against some of the strongest dragons serving Tiamat!"
"Yes, that sounds like him," I said, "I never heard him use those titles, though".
"Probably doesn't like all the attention," said Lydratir.
"That sounds about right," I said, "he seemed to prefer simply do what needed to be done, rather than bask in his clearly deserved praise. If it weren't for him, I'd probably still have a broken leg. Anyway, until recently, I've been living in the town of Riverpoint. I knew it was time to find my own way in the world… I wasn't a wyrmling any longer. Since then, I've been traveling, stopped some Drow from kidnapping farmers from Rothe Valley, nearly got killed by an overzealous guard captain while sleeping, and then got directed here by a kindly Paladin. What of you? What's your story?"
"Well, I grew up in a fairly quiet town called Nyssus," said Charles, "through a series of circumstances, I ended up acting as the assistant to the town's blacksmith. I always looked up to him… actually everyone did in a way, as he was quite tall. Pelthik was an absolutely massive Dragonborn. He seemed glad to have someone to teach, both in his trade as well as in combat".
"Would that perhaps be Pelthik the Pale?" asked Narcrath, "He was known to be one of the most skilled Bounty Hunters in the land! I've heard tales of his adventures preventing needless conflict with the Storm Giants".
"Could have been," said Charles, "he did have white scales, after all. He trained me to fight, and had me make this sword of mine as a final product before he declared I was no longer an apprentice smith. It certainly came in handy when a hobgoblin horde attacked our village. After I set out to find my way the world, I met this lot and we decided to work together to investigate disappearances of bodies from the cemetery at the nearby town. Well, that's when we met you".
"I guess it's my turn, huh?" said Krisyra, "Well, my people have long lived in the High Forest. I don't have an exciting story like the others. I was raised and trained by the elder archdruids of my people. Sometimes they spoke of an event where cultists attempted to summon for the full might of the elemental planes to the material plane".
"I remember Quoros telling me about that," I said, "sounds like a fairly nasty event".
"The rest of my tale is fairly simple as well," said Krisyra, "my people have a tradition of sending those who have reached adulthood out into the wider world so that they acquire a great depth of experience. Those who return aid us in many ways, while those who don't also find their places".
"How many of us have a connection to some major event?" asked Lydratir, "my mother had the unpleasant experience of being captured by the Drow and dragged down to the Underdark… though, sometimes I wonder if it was part of some divine plan, as she and her companions ended up fighting against a plot by the Demon Lords of the Abyss to invade the Material Plane. That might be why I was born an Aasimar… she earned favor with the Celestials".
"Well, my father always told stories about his adventures," said Narcrath. "one he only mentioned in hushed tones was something about a place called Barovia. I've looked up every map I could locate, and I couldn't find it anywhere".
"I've heard of it," I said, "I saw references to it in Quoros' library. It's a plane ruled over by a powerful Vampire Lord, Strad von Zarovitch. It only connects to the Material Plane when he chooses for it to do so".
"Yes, he did mention that name," said Narcrath, "he said that while he was sure he'd slain Strad, he'd return some day. He trained me to draw out the power of my blood, to wield the power of a sorcerer".
"So, what are our plans?" I asked, "Where are we headed?"
"Well, our next step is going to be head back to town for payment for dealing with the necromancers, After that, we'll likely need to listen in on the rumor mill," said Narcrath, "Of course, you're likely to touch off some new rumors".
"Hmm, maybe I could disguise myself," I said, "are any of you in possession of a large bucket of gold paint?"
Narcrath led out a laugh, and then replied, "would you actually want that?"
"In all honesty… no," I said, "to do so would be to represent myself as something I'm not. Besides a Gold dragon walking in to town would cause just as much of a stir as a Red".
"True enough," said Narcrath, "but we'll see what tomorrow holds. We should bed down soon. You mind taking one of the watches, big guy?"
"Very well," I said, "just tell me when you're ready to change shifts".
My companions and I laid down to rest, ready for tomorrow.
A/N: And there we go! Next time: The adventure continues, and the party is directed to the town of Oakhurst. See you then!