Also the night before the trip up the river...
He might not carry a lute, he might not dance, he might not be the world's best singer, but Steffan Arbury is still a bard, deep down: a collector of songs and of tales as much as of knowledge and of specimens - and even more of the former, to be truthful, recently - and as such he can't help but gravitate towards where one with a way with words tends to always be welcome (until, of course, a near-fatal stabbing incident involving a very full and frank discussion over the correct scientific naming of the lesser fiendish toad, but that's another story for another day...).
The night he and Eli arrived in town, Steffan introduced them both to the innkeeper, in a fit of cheek, as Steffan Arbury, the Famous Chronicler, and his Fearless Companion Captain Ockerbie hoping (although he was carrying enough around to buy a small boat and therefore actually quite well off) to get a discount on their rooms for the time they'd be spending there. He promised when they came back that he'd recount their inevitably heroic deeds in front of the big log fire - a little unnecessary, given the fetid humidity of the place, but a nice touch late at night - and maybe share a few tales or even songs that might not have made their way down to the outskirts of civilisation just yet. Eli might be a little shyer, and there was more than once occasion when Steffan should really have just kept his mouth shut, but there were many many more occasions when he just couldn't help himself. He saw nearly everything as a story, and indeed the idea was one of the philosophies he'd spent some time pursuing.
And so, unable to wait, the night before departing Steffan set his pint of dark ale down on the table by the fireside - thankfully unlit so early in the evening - asked the table's occupants if they minded, listened in to their conversation for a few minutes, and then, spotting an opening, began.
Not so long ago, he started, after the handful of men and women on the table had consented to listen to the newcomer with a twinkle in his eye, Not so long ago, very shortly after the fall of the queen, in fact, there was a long and incredible adventure, the likes of which hadn't been seen for many a decade...
Steffan signaled to the barkeeper to bring him another, and continued.
I witnessed parts of it myself, in fact - which I don't mention to glorify myself, for I'm a humble travelling chronicler -but just to point out that I can vouch, personally, for the veracity of the tale: for yea, even those who took part could not entirely believe some of what took place.
'Twas in a far land - to the south, near the southern mountains, near a great river. Our heroes - there were six of 'em, to begin with, although there weren't always six, and there weren't always six whole heroes, the poor feckers - our heroes had been summoned by the greatest wizard in the land, to save the very kingdom itself. There was a vast and powerful evil, a terrible, hideous, gut-wrecking evil which was on the verge of destroying a noble line built up over centuries. You may know this noble line - it has dragonblood, is all I shall say for now, and if you know your history then I think you may have an idea of how important this quest was...
Anyway, our adventurers... there were six: a brave, tough warrior with the speed of a leopard; a beautiful but haughty lady who could seduce even a locked door, if she deigned to; a... slightly less beautiful sneaky git of a girl, sadly and horribly deformed such that one feared to look upon her - but if you did, and you flinched in disgust, she could cause you to drop dead, just like that, with a click of her fingers (so it was said); two wizards - one known to many a kobold tribe as the Naked Terror and the other known as the Arsonist of Fate; and the last a ferocious warrior who, for religious reasons unknown to his companions, chose to hide his face from public view. He was perhaps shy, and afraid of the acclaim that would naturally come his way, for once, and I saw this with my very own eyes, this hidden warrior slew a mighty dragon, a doomlizard fully two hundred feet long and capable of breathing corrosive fire - with a single blow from his even mightier fist!
No!!
Aye, but yes! Anyway - hold on,
Steffan asked the barkeeper for some cheese, and a salty barsnack of any sort, and another drink.
The brave six were sent, on the very first night, through a fearsome portal, to another plane - another dimension where the Lord of Evil was preparing his forces, although it looked, to the untrained eye, like any other land - but such is evil, it hides itself habitually, and cunningly, always afraid of being seen in the light of day. They were sent through the portal, and hup! they found themselves in a foreign land, miles from anywhere, and - misfortune of misfortunes, although I guess we might appreciate a little here from time to time - it was snowing! The Naked Terror was in all sorts of trouble, as you can guess from his name...
The brave six had barely advanced a dozen feet when bosh! they found themselves not just in a foreign and snowy land, but in the middle of a fiendish kobold ambush. Now, I know that not all kobolds are evil, but these kobolds were - evil, and very very angry. It seems the adventurers had ruined their ambush, which was set for another, and a much larger force - and so the kobold company, of over two hundred kobolds, leapt into the attack!
The brave warrior - from an ancient lineage of messenger-warriors, if I remember - was the first to react: he ran at the nearest little fiend and wrenched its crossbow from its hands, shooting it point blank in the head and slaying a score of the blighters before they could blink. But blink they did! An as soon as they blinked, well, they unleashed hell upon the poor man, if hell were in the form of many many crossbow bolts. The messenger-warrior took nigh on a dozen bolts to the chest, and to the face-
Steffan was interrupted by a tableful of gasps and goshes, and he looked around the table, conveying the horror of the episode with his eyes.
-but the hero was as impervious to pain as he was... pervious to bolts. He stood fast.
There were a sigh or two of relief, and he continued.
The other adventurers stepped forward; they fought bravely, and took many wounds. But what put an end to the fight, and what ensured it was not a fair fight, was the Naked Terror. He was, as you might think, both Naked, and Terrifying - and he could control the very elemental forces of nature itself. He advanced upon the kobolds, striding right into their centre, where he was surrounded by a hundred enemies. Every one fired upon him, but every bolt he shook off with a word of command, blowing the missile right back at his assailant - in the face. When he reached the middle of the kobold horde, he motioned with his hands, and uttered a single terrifying syllable, and instantly - instantly! - half of the remaining kobolds surrounding him - at least forty - shot up, hundreds of feet in the air.
They could be heard screaming as they flew up, and screaming as they flew down: but once, every single one of them, once they'd hit their comrades and splattered them both to a gory death, they could be heard screaming no more. Blood was everywhere, as were bits of kobold.
The Lady stepped forward, and blasted the remaining enemy with her scorn: Fly, useless fools! she shouted, and terrified of her and her companions' ire they did.
And of course, just then, the local company of guards came through, gave chase, and then claimed all the credit-
Steffan, although nearly finished, was interrupted once again.
Boo! Boo to the cowardly guards!
-for this astonishing victory, where six brave adventurers saw off two hundred kobold raiders....
He finished his drink and placed it carefully back on the table, trying to line it up with the beer mark on the table.
And that, I'm afraid, is all I have time for this evening. Tomorrow, I, and Captain Ockerbie, and any others brave enough to join us, head out into the wild... When we return, I shall perhaps have time to tell of the time the adventurers slew two mighty dragons: one with a single fist, and the other with a single shot...
Eli was standing in his doorway when Steffan got up the stairs.
"The Naked Terror again, eh?"
"Aye."
"So, I've never actually asked you this: is it true, this one? Were you really there?"
"What do you mean, this one? Anyway, yes, it is true. He was very often naked, for a professional adventurer... And yes, I was there, kind of..."
"Kind of?"
"Yes, kind of. I'll tell you another time..."
Steffan turned to go. He was tired, but just as he was about to go he turned back.
"I'd uh... I'd fallen asleep in a nearby bush, you see. On the way back from a tavern. Jilted. Saw the lot. They had a tremendous... a tremendous heroic presence..."
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Topic: D&D 3.5 PbP: River of Death: The RP Thread (Read 7925 times)