218 - The Poetry of Heathrax Dragonfriend

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Many seeds are planted in my garden
Flowers, fruits, and herbs all grow, tangled
They’ve gathered from many lands.
Some have drifted to me with the winds.
They are all now my friends

    - Heathrax Dragonfriend

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217 - “Rise Again” - Tonklyn - A Tale of Heroes

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For two full days, snow had fallen on the mountain, and the canyon winds had funneled the blizzard over the shrine. The terraces, the bridge, the scattered rubble, and the twisted dragon’s body were all covered over in almost two feet of new snow. The bony skeleton of the bridge’s structure underneath held it steady, but the damage from the fight was still evident. The stone debris lay in scattered shambles across the walkway, and the snow, gray in the dim, blended into the charred black stones where the dragon had spit its last flames.

Several of the layered pools along the wall of the canyon had been emptied when the force of the dragon’s body clambering over them crushed the ledges holding the water in place. Without the hot water filling them, the shells were now buried in snow. Jagged stones from the damage stuck up like knives through the snow. The hot springs still flowed, cutting down the side of the mountain in steaming streams, keeping the snow at bay until they faded into the mists in the valley below. Ice flows on either side of the streams dripped in the gray light like blood from daggers. The rising heat of the waters underneath had not yet had time to melt the snow on the bridge, but icicles from that afternoon were starting to dangle from its precipices.

The night weighed heavy on the canyon and the thick darkness of shadow descended. The only sounds were the wooing winds and the haunting mumbled conversations of the springs and falls.

On the bridge near the shrine, a bit of the snow shifted. It crunched a little in the quiet, bumping up a few inches.

Then another piece near it moved, as if a small animal were burrowing under its surface. Then, for a moment, there was an uncertain still again.

Quickly, the snow shook and rustled from side to side with a fiercer motion. A clump of snow rose up, like something was trying to break out from under it into the dark air.

A dark hand burst out. It swung from side to side, sweeping the snow away. It’s motions were jerks and strokes, like its arm below were still frozen and lifeless.

Soon, a second hand emerged and shoved more of the snow aside.

A dark head and torso sat up, and turned over, straining to stand. His face was dark and scaly, and his hair matted and tangled. When he stood, he shook as if his limbs were uncertain of how to be steady. He tossed his cloak to cast off the snow, then bent and reached back into the snow to pull out his spear.

He meticulously began walking across the bridge, stumbling through the snow toward the path down the mountain.


“It will take him a long time to get back here.” Tonklyn said, as he and Kirraxal watched the drama unfold on their shadow stage in the throne room. That’s why Kirraxal wasn’t angry after the battle. It doesn’t matter as much if he’s not so good at fighting. He’ll just wake back up. I wonder how many unlives he has. One more? Two? Maybe he’s undying. 

“True.” Kirraxal agreed. “Maybe I should send him to Emberfire City to wait for you there.”

Maybe. This is an interesting twist that I’ll need to plan for.

“As you command, Your Majesty. As you command.”

<<<>>>

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216 - “Top of the World” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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Thissraelle and Eddiwarth stood on the crest of the mountain, in the same spot where they had been with Korr earlier. Hours before? Days before? She couldn’t tell. There seemed to be deeper, fresher snow than there had been then.

The winds blew their cloaks around them, and her hair flew around her hooded face. The sun was sinking low in the western horizon and the sky behind them was turning a dark blue. The mountain below them was covered in a thick blanket of snow dappled in an orange glow; the deep slope behind them was already dark.

She leaned back on him, her head against his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her waist, across her cloak. Life had been a storm of changes in the immediate past. Her father turned out to be not so much of a villain, after all. Dragons had almost killed her, and then the object of her quest turned out to be a dragon. Then, that dragon had agreed to take her on as a student. Her friends, well, they were always there, but now she appreciated them so much more. And Eddiwarth was now her... My what? My friend? My love? There should be a word in between those two. She drew in cold air.

“It’s hard to breathe up here,” she said.

“I always feel that way around you.”

“Really?” She rolled her eyes. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Probably, I’m sad to say.”

She laughed and pressed herself close against him again. “You need to read more poems.”

She let the winds blow around her and watched the sun dip a few degrees lower. She marveled at the beauty of the view stretched out before them. “So, are those the Graemal mountains?” She squinted and pointed slightly to the right of the darkening sun. There was a low line of jagged blue and white bumps on the distant horizon.

“I don’t know. I think that’s another branch of the Emberfire ranges.” He also squinted and shielded his eyes with his hand, then pointed. “Way off over there, more south. Those tiny points might be.”

She looked, too, but the sun was halfway hidden, and the darkness was descending. The few high and wispy clouds were lit with a vivid orange and gray.

“Now that’s breathtaking.” Thissraelle said.

She turned to face Eddiwarth and put her arms around his neck. “Thanks for showing me the beautiful view.” He started to say something, but she hurried to kiss him first.

Then they just embraced tightly and felt each other’s warmth in the darkening cold.

<<<>>>

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215 - "What Is This Thing?” - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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Interludes:

It was snowing again in the Graelmal mountains. Not a fierce, harsh blizzard, just a steady snowfall where millions of flakes quietly float down through the still night air. Even though the city wasn’t high up the slope, nestling in the gentler foothills, it still got a lot of snow each winter.

Winterfest was only a week away, and many celebrations had already been going on. As the long dark of winter nights settled over the city, the Giants of Graemalan had begun hanging their lights and banners. The lights were small shards of gems, tiny oculi, dropped in the bottom of small glass jars. A wire was looped around the neck and it was set dangling over a door or window. Most houses had one or two, the most they could afford, but some of the wealthier families had dozens. They kept the snow in the narrow city streets glowing.

One of these lights shone through the thin curtain of a window onto Granthurg, stretched out long in his bed. He had been glad to get home so many months ago. After several years in the human-run world, it had been nice to not have to stoop in a house, squat on a chair, or curl up on a bed.

His mother and two younger siblings had been thrilled to see him, and had embraced him fiercely when he had surprised them with his arrival. That first dinner home had filled him with joy and melancholy. He missed his father who had passed many years before, and his older brother was away working the river.

He also carried a heavy heart whenever he thought of Thissraelle and Karendle. Every once in a while, he would raise his eyes to the sky and ask The Creator to watch over them.

He turned in his bed. His mattress was soft, but also a bit worn. He felt a familiar discomfort from under the mattress, a rigid stiffness. He knew what it was. He kept it there, hidden, but accessible. Occasionally, he pulled it out and thought about it. He did that tonight. He reached under his arm, under his mattress and grabbed the sheath. Holding it in the cool night air, he unsnapped the strap and drew the blade. The shiny, short white dagger glistened a little in the soft light coming in through the window.

What ARE you?

The point and edge were very sharp. He knew it well. He had pricked his finger on it many times, trying to feel it, to learn its powers. The only time he’d ever been surprised by it was the one moment when he’d used it to fight the drake while thrashing in the river. So many people seemed to want it, even though most people didn’t even know it existed. It frightened him, baffled him, and fascinated him. He wanted to find out about it, its history and function.

You’re a fool, Granthurg. Get rid of it. It will be the death of you.

He slid it back into its sheath and snapped the strap again. He reached under his mattress and replaced it. It wasn’t so comfortable, but that reminded him that it was there. Really, its very existence made him a bit uncomfortable.

He turned back over and resettled his blanket.

Now to just get some sleep.

<<<>>>

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153 - "You Must be Mad” - Shylai’a - A Tale of Heroes

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Shylai’a (shih-LIE-uh) sat in the city square of a neighborhood in the city’s InnerWall quarter. She took a deep breath. She forcefully folded her tense arms with her fingers in fists. She crossed a leg over her knee in an attempt to appear casual, unaffected, but her clenched jaw and bouncing foot belied her real feelings.

A momentary breeze in the hot summer air rustled the leaves in the tree above her but did little to cool her mood. They need City Guards! Ever since the attack, they’ve needed more soldiers in the ranks! They’re actively recruiting skilled fighters instead of just pressing peasants like they usually do! So, why don’t they want me?

She snapped her head back and forth as uninterested people walked the street before her. Some stopped to shop or haggle with street vendors, while others just walked on.

She unfolded her arms and tried to forcibly calm them by rubbing her hands across her skirt of heavy banded leather. Part clothing, part armor, the long, thick slats of hardened leather hung from under her sword belt, and fell draped on either side of her leg, which still had the protection and coverage of heavy cloth underneath. She crossed her arms again, over the coarse blue tunic. I’m as skilled as any swordsman they’ve got! I can guard the city as well as any man. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to join!

But when she had stepped into the recruiting line, the captain had pulled her out and told her to “go home and play house.” When she’d argued that the city had been attacked and needed more defenders, he had shown her the short line of young men signing up and said, “And here they are! Just pick one and marry him!” The men had all laughed. Some had whistled and yelled, “Marry me, sweetheart!”

Shylai’a swore and stood up with her fists clenched. She stood still, tense, as if looking for something to kick or punch. Marry them? They’re all weak and scrawny mama’s boys! I could’ve taken any one of them in a fight! Finally she just grunted and started walking.

As she paced around the perimeter of the square, she noticed a group of people gathered in a clump. They all seemed to be focused on something in the middle of their circle. They were laughing and shouting, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Some street rat must be doing a funny dance. They’d better all watch their purses.

Shylai’a strode past them, shaking her head.

“...Great doom is coming! Doom!” an old man’s voice croaked out. “Doom shall befall this city with long dark wings and shiny teeth!”

“That happened last month, you old fool!”

“He’s not much of a prophet. He can only say what’s already happened!” The crowd laughed at their taunts. Some began to disperse. Between the bystanders, she caught a glimpse of an older man, standing up on a bench, wearing a dirty gray tunic over his hunched shoulders. He waved a gnarled wooden cane in the air. He was not tall and the sides of his head had long, stringy white hair over his ears and surrounding a sweaty bald spot.

“Snakes creep through the streets. Little ones. BIG ONES! You all must repent! You must find kindness! The Creator decrees it! If the people will abandon their secrecy and their darkness and their hatred and their hiding eyes, the flowers will yet bloom in this city!”

“There are already flowers here!”

“Yeah, it’s summer!”

The old man laughed. “Yes! The flowers will come! Joy will follow! Children will dance!” He jumped from the bench and began to shuffle his feet to imaginary music, holding his cane before him.

The bystanders, suddenly weary of their afternoon’s entertainment, began to go their separate ways. “You, there, friend,” The old man continued, taking a man by the arm. He turned his head one way and the other, looking closely at the bystander’s face. “Don’t you know what day it is? The new wind is sweet like fresh bread!”

Shylai’a found herself smiling at the harmless old man, in spite of her frustration. The bystander shook his arm free with disgust and just a bit of fear and tossed a few copper pieces at the old man’s feet. “Here. Save your preaching for the chapel!”

"Bless your steps!" the old man said as the bystander wandered away.

The old man noticed Shylai’a and stepped toward her, leaning his head far to one side as he looked at her. “Hmmm....”

“What?” she asked, amused.

“You have fish in your eyes...”

“You are a strange old man.”

He nodded, smiling. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

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152 - "Where Am I?” - Thissraelle - A Tale of Heroes

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Thissraelle opened her eyes to darkness.

Surprised, she jerked her gaze all around her, but saw nothing. The last thing she remembered was also darkness. A shiver of fear rolled through her as she looked toward her hands and legs. She was surprised that she could see them. Quite clearly, in fact, as if her body alone were brightly lit from... somewhere?

Am I dead? 

She turned her hands over. They looked real, and she could flex her fingers. She grabbed at her dress. It was a fine, white linen, cut to fit her perfectly. Her delicately worked leather shoes formed beautifully to her ankle. Beyond her feet, again, there was nothing.

I'm falling! She panicked. She kicked her feet and flailed her hands, trying to feel or grab anything solid. Anything to hold on to.

Wait. No. I'm not falling.

She hung in the space, still except for her heavy breathing. I'm not falling.

Where am I? I must be dead.

She looked at her hands again. She grabbed her dress again and rubbed the fabric between her fingers. She ran her fingers through her hair and felt its texture. Do dead people feel things?

She floated for a moment, thinking and looking.

I might be upside-down. That thought made her smile. How would I turn over? Which way is up, anyway?

She slowly reached out to see if she could touch anything in the darkness.

Where's Eddiwarth? And Karendle? They were near me! Are they here, too? Her head and eyes bounced from side to side as she tried to find them.

No. Of course I can't see them. 

She filled her mind with her will, and a light blue haze began to form around her. As the feeling swelled inside, her mind came alive. She pushed herself forward, flying away into the emptiness.

Flying... Where?

She slowed to a... Stop? How can you move if there’s nothing to move to or from? How can you stop if you’re not really moving?

Well, that wasn't so helpful.

As she floated, pondering, confused, a bright and vivid light appeared beside her, startling and momentarily blinding her. She shielded her eyes with her hands. After a moment, her eyes adjusted to see a man in the light, and after a moment more, she recognized the face. He was not in armor like he was last time, but wearing a loose white tunic and leggings.

“Ah. Saint Ivarr.” She mumbled, “so, if this is heaven, it’s a bit underwhelming.”

He shook his head. “Fair Thissraelle, Wizard of Light. This is not heaven. Nor hell.”

“Well, if I were dead, I don’t think I’d be getting visitors, either.”

“You are, in fact, not dead.”

Thissraelle looked away. “So, where am I? It’s very dark here.”

Ivarr gestured with a wave of his hand. “It is as you choose. This is your mind.”

“If this is my mind, I’m not very creative.”

He shrugged. “Well, you ARE still unconscious.”

Thissraelle sighed and rubbed her face with her hand. “I haven’t found Heathrax yet.”

“No, you haven’t.” He drifted around her and faced her. “You have fought for your friends. You have healed and protected strangers.”

Anger and frustration welled up in her, flowing over and rushing out into the darkness. “Why do I need to find him? Heathrax. Who is he anyway? What’s happened to everyone? Why did my father make the Guild attack the Church?” She grabbed his shirt and shook it. “Why? Tell me why?”

He covered her hands in his and gently pulled them away. She released them and he answered, “You have much to learn. Much to learn about the world and yourself.” He let her hands drop, and his brightness started to fade.

“For now, rest.”

In a moment, she was swallowed in darkness again.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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151 - "Is That Me?” - DeFrantis - A Tale of Heroes

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My wedding. The sound of those words in DeFrantis’ head sent waves of excitement and confusion shivering through her whole being. She stared at the image of herself in the mirror. It didn't look real to her. Familiar, but not real. She looked... beautiful.

One of the ladies there with her, a plump and cheerful woman who easily had fifteen more winters of age beyond DeFrantis, set a delicate wreath of reeds and flowers over her dark hair. The woman and her friends had been with DeFrantis all morning, dressing her, turning her, combing and braiding her hair, and preparing her for her wedding. Andrina and little Lilia were there as well, sometimes handing things to the ladies, but mostly chasing each other around the room and playing.

My wedding.

"All right! Now stand up and let's have a look!"

DeFrantis stood and the three women spun her around, tugging and tucking the dress, sashes, and the flowers. DeFrantis had never met them before today. They were matrons of the congregation of the Church of Three Lights in Dirae, and Brother Mathezar had sent them to the monastery in the woods to be her attendants on her most special day.

It felt odd to DeFrantis. She was grateful to them, of course, but she would have preferred to have Thissraelle and Karendle there. As she thought of them, she felt the emptiness of missing them. She would have loved to have them helping her prepare, even if they would have been arguing for most of the time. Frankly, between the two of them, they would have ended up with her looking jumbled and confused, like a WinterFest evergreen that had been decorated by too many people. She pictured each of them in her mind. She was worried about them. She’d heard of chaos and battles in Twynne Rivers, and it had been weeks since the group of them left Dirae on Granthurg’s barge.

"Well, what do you think?"

DeFrantis looked in the mirror, transfixed.

Is that me?

Just last spring, she had looked like a drowned street rat, skulking through the heartless alleys of Twynne Rivers in the rain. Then, in that dark night, trapped in the dungeon of the guard tower, she had met Antonerri. Now here she stood, ready to be his bride.

Is that really me? She looked incredulously at the two ladies, and said, "Thank you so much. I don't know what to say!"

They laughed and embraced her. "Please, miss. We should be thanking you!"

"True!” One of the others said, “Since the slavers left town, our children can play without fear. By the Creator, I can actually go to church again!”

The third woman nodded, then added, “They call you the Deliverers of Dirae”. They hugged her one more time, then clapped, giggled, and fussed some more. It all seemed so strange for DeFrantis. Deliverer of Dirae? Is that me? I have an Earned Name? I had always been just DeFrantis. Just a street kid. 

A knock sounded gently on the door. They all froze with anticipation. Even the little girls stopped running. “Ladies?” The heavy door to the room muffled the brother’s hesitant voice, “Everyone is in place. They’re ready for you.”

An excited shiver rushed through DeFrantis’ back. Her pulse quickened a bit. She smiled at her attendant ladies, and they nodded back. “Lilia? Andrina? Are you ready?” The girls nodded, and the attendants straightened the girls’ small dresses and handed them baskets of flowers. DeFrantis drew in a long breath. “Let’s go, then!”

DeFrantis lifted her dress just above her feet, and they walked carefully out of the chamber, down some stairs and into the abbey courtyard. Colorful cloth streamers draped from trees to awnings and waved in the summer breeze. The mid-morning sun was bright and already quite warm. A cluster of brothers stood round the porch of the monastery’s chapel. She could see the Abbott’s mitred head and robed shoulders as he looked out over the monks. His eyes brightened as he saw DeFrantis and the girls approaching.

Some of the monks noticed, too. “They’re coming!” A whisper ran through the huddle. They parted to allow the girls passage to the porch. As they cleared the way, DeFrantis caught sight of Antonerri standing in front of the steps, watching her approach. He wore a long, white cloak over his shoulders, and a plain but smart tunic underneath, with wide sleeves and a finely-made thin leather belt. He straightened tall and tugged at his tunic. It looked less like an adjustment and more like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He had neatly trimmed his beard for the occasion, and it framed his delighted smile.

Oh, that smile. He struggled so hard to find it. She found herself smiling as well. She took in a deep breath to calm her own heartbeats.

The little girls reached the porch and separated, one to each side as they had rehearsed the day before, to join the other children of the orphanage. DeFrantis stepped up next to Antonerri and he took her hand. He drew her toward him and kissed her forehead. She looked up into his eyes. Suddenly things fell into place, and it all felt real. Of all her life’s mistakes, struggles, and searches, this finally felt right. She was loved. She was home.

Antonerri turned to face the Father Abbott, and she did so as well. She held his hand tight. The Abbott began speaking, giving advice and reading scriptures about marriage and family, but she didn’t hear a word of it. It was a blur. After a bit, he paused, then read them each their questions and vows. Her eyes danced with his as they promised their lives to each other and the Abbott started praying over them in Latin. Then suddenly, she and Antonerri were kissing, laughing, and holding each other tight. The brothers were clapping and cheering, and the bells clanged a cacophony from the tower above. The moment left DeFrantis a bit dizzy. She buried her face into Antonerri’s neck and shoulders and held on, feeling her heart pounding. Lily, Andrina, and the other children rushed to grab a hold of the couple’s legs.

Finally, they relaxed, kissed again, and followed the Father Abbott into the chapel with all of the brothers for their first service of the mass as husband and wife.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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150 - "Searching” - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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Interludes

Granthurg stepped with a slight limp down the pier to his barge. It was very early in the morning, still dark. He breathed in the familiar stale smells of the river. He’d not been to his barge except for a few times in the three weeks since the fight in the chapel, partly for practical reasons and partly out of fear. Life in Twynne Rivers had definitely changed. And not for the better.

After dredging himself out of the river that night, he’d collapsed, half dead, on the bank. The following morning he’d shambled through alleys and side streets to get to the RiverFront quarter and the Old Steersman Inn. The steady rains still kept most people inside. Along the way, he’d passed the burned out ruins of the Grand Cathedral. It was surrounded by City Guardsmen, and there was no sign of Thissraelle, Karendle, or Eddiwarth. They were still sorting through the damage, but nobody remembered seeing a young elven girl, or a half-dwarf in the thick of the fight. The good news was that they weren’t among the recovered bodies, either, at least not yet.

He hadn’t stayed there long, weakened by the loss of blood. When he finally arrived at the kitchen entrance to the Old Steersman, the innkeeper rushed him upstairs to his room, where Granthurg spent the next week and a half lying under sweaty sheets, fighting off the fever from the infection in his leg.

He’d called out for Thissraelle, but the innkeeper just said they couldn’t find any magical healers. The inn staff kept changing his bandages and bringing him herbal treatments. Finally, as he had rested, his fever had broken, and he had begun healing.

As he walked along the pier he glanced back up at the quay of the RiverFront, looking for... Anyone. He wasn’t sure who might be there, but he wanted to be sure he’d not been followed. He felt the white dagger against his ankle in his boot. It felt safer having it to weild, but, considering how many wanted it, he was also vulnerable carrying it at all. He stepped down onto the deck and untied the bow lines securing the barge to the dock. He began to slowly walk aft, inspecting the barge as he moved.

About a week ago, once he had healed sufficiently, he’d come here to make sure it was secure. The storm had scattered several of the tarps, but otherwise, it had been well. He’d suspected that a few of the cargo crates had been either stolen, searched, or both. He didn’t really care if they had. That was the least of his worries. He’d squared those that remained all shipshape and tied them down again. Now, as he walked the deck, they looked to be all still in place.

His mind drifted. Memories of the past months came to him. Memories of running the river with Rinkmorr. Memories of defending the barge against what he’d thought were river pirates, then those that were after the white-bladed dagger. The dagger that Rinkmorr had left with him. The dagger that Rinkmorr had been killed for. Memories of new friends all fighting to defend Thissraelle.

Thissraelle.

His brow furrowed with worry. He untied the starboard stern line, and stepped up onto the steering platform. He’d never had a friend like Thissraelle. In just a few months, they had connected to each other like they had been friends their whole lives, like she was his little sister. A VERY little sister, to a giant like me!

I can’t let myself believe she’s gone. There were no bodies.

She had to have survived the attack, somehow. They’d gotten through battles together, before, and Granthurg knew how strong she could be. He couldn’t accept the idea that she hadn’t survived.

However, the two weeks he’d spent searching for her had turned up nothing.

It hadn’t been easy to search, either. The Church pulled all of their Holy Guard from other posts to stand and protect the burned out shell of the Cathedral, and no one was allowed onto the site. Somehow, thieves and looters still managed to scavenge the ruins, making off with gold and oculi. The leadership of the Church was nowhere to be seen. Many said the councils were killed off, and others said they were all in hiding. When Granthurg had first became well enough to leave the Old Steersman, there were still angry mobs shouting outside the Wizard’s Guild, clamoring for vengeance from the King. The Royal Guard stood watch, but did nothing to stop them, nor to calm them. Finally, the Royal Guard and the City Guard together raided the Guild Hall, and arrested what few wizards remained there. Mages of the Guild were never very common in the streets of the city, but since the attack, they’re not seen at all.

Granthurg himself was in fear. He didn’t know who knew about the blade, nor why they wanted it. But someone knew he had it, and they would eagerly kill him to get it. He he didn’t want to be seen by them, and didn’t want to lead them to his friends, once he did find them. He’d gone out, mostly by night and early morning, to try and find Thissraelle, Eddiwarth, or Karendle. He’d checked in on his barge, but never saw them there. He’d asked at the Inn they had chosen, and in the streets nearby, but nobody had seen them since the attack. It was like they had vanished.

Where do I go, now? His mind’s eye pictured Antonerri and DeFrantis romping with the kids of the orphanage. They would want to know what happened. But what if the men who want the dagger follow me there? We’re only starting to see the reach of the Dragon’s Flame. 

Granthurg untied the port stern line, setting the barge fully free of the pier. It was his boat, now. Debt-free and beholden to no one. He had no obligations and no commitments. Only questions.

So why don’t I feel free?

He also had no direction and no friends. He had almost no hope of seeing them again. He stepped back onto the steering platform and lifted the hatch over the oculus, half expecting it to have been stolen as well. But the latch was locked, and the stone intact. He held his hand out above it, closed his eyes, and searched deep in his being for the will to go on. His face burned and his eyes watered as he’d remembered learning this step from Thissraelle. Slowly, he felt it swell inside him, and heard the water churn underneath him. The boat began to move backward, out of the berth, and away from the dock.

Where do I go, now? I need to get far away. I need to escape, to think things through, to find some answers.

After clearing the docks, and moving into the center of the river, he turned the barge to the Lesser Wynne, the southern fork, then westward, toward the Graemal Mountains.

I’ll go home.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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92 - Winds of Change - Karendle - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

The Inn was noisy, crowded, and a little dim, in spite of the candles on the walls and the tables. Night had fallen on the last day of the SummerFaire, and so before going back to the monastery in the woods, the team sat down for a grand meal. The air was filled with the smattering of conversations mixed with the smell of stews, breads, and roasts. Many others who were there for the faire had also gathered to eat or to stay a night before leaving town to return home.

Karendle sat with her companions around a long, oval table. She picked up her ale and took a swig, while listening to the conversations.

“Where’s the food?” Granthurg complained, “I’m hungry”

“You’re always hungry,” Thisraelle chirped.

I can’t quite figure them out. They seem almost inseparable, but yet they don’t quite fit together. I don’t think Thissraelle likes me much. I’m not sure why. It’s nice that she’s trying to teach me magic, but she’s not very patient with me. Maybe that’s the problem.

“At least we have plenty of ale!” Eddiwarth drew deep on his tankard.

I do wish he would leave me alone. I think I would learn a lot faster without him interfering. He’s just fixated on Thissraelle. Maybe Granthurg will finally get fed up and take him out behind the stables someday. He could sure use a good thrashing.

Antonerri just laughed. He sat near DeFrantis, with his arm across her chair, around her shoulders. She was leaned in close to him.

Karendle took another drink. The inkeeper’s wife stepped up to the table, and said, “Here we are! Thanks for waiting!” She started putting bowls on the table. “Stew! Bread! And lots of seasoned apples!” Everyone leaned in and picked up bowls and plates, passing them around the table.

“Oh, this is great!”

“Careful, it’s hot”

“Here’s the bread”

Karendle took in the scene as the aromas drifted up from her bowl. She glanced up at DeFrantis. I owe her my life. I owe her everything. I still don’t understand why she helps me. Maybe she just helps everyone.

DeFrantis held up her hands and spoke, “Hello, before everyone starts eating--”

“Too late!” Thissraelle said, laughing at Granthurg.

DeFrantis smiled, and Granthurg awkwardly set his bowl down. She continued, “This last month has changed my life. Everyone seems to look at me when we talk about our adventures, but we all brought the children home. We all fought together. Now, for the first time, I truly have a home.” She smiled at Antonerri, who gave her shoulder a squeeze. She stood and lifted her tankard. “Thank you all. Each of you risked your life for mine, and for the sake of the kids. Thank you, my dear friends!”

Everyone drank and cheered as she sat back down. Karendle nodded before drinking. I have never felt this before. I have never felt this... closeness... this belonging. 

She took a bit of bread, dipped it in her stew and began eating. What am I to do, now? I can’t return to Twynne Rivers. I’m not sure how long the monastery will let me stay there.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the cry of “Hear, ye! Hear, ye!”  Everyone turned toward the main door to see the source of the interruption. It was the pubcrier, there to call out the week’s news. As he started, people in the inn returned to their dinners. Karendle quickly tuned him out as well, until she heard him mention the Twynne Rivers Wizard’s Guild. She and Thissraelle both snapped up their attention and turned around to listen.

“...The Wizard’s guild has long opposed any attempt by the Royal Court to impose laws limiting the use of magic. However, King Hastone III, of House Twynham, may he live long, and protect us all, has issued a decree of a tax of 5 coppers to be levied against anyone using magic powers in a public place. Anyone using such powers and refusing to pay the toll will be arrested. His majesty decrees this as necessary to regulate the wanton chaos brought about by uncontrolled wizardry!”

The pubcrier continued on, “SummerFaire celebrations will continue throughout this month in various towns and hamlets throughout the Realm.  Those travelling the roads will be subject to th...” The attention the group paid to the pubcrier faded as they all turned back to the table to look at each other with questions on their faces. Bits of conversation drifted from other tables, “It’s about time they did something to stop them!”, “They should lock all the wizards away, I say!”...

Thissraelle seemed particularly disturbed. Eddiwarth asked, “So, what does this mean? What’s happening?”

“My father would never allow this!” Thissraelle crossed her arms, her head down. “Never!”

Karendle felt a chilly draft blow across the table, and shivered.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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91 - A Sunny Day - Antonerri - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

“Your beard has come back in very nicely,” DeFrantis said, running her fingers across his chin. They relaxed under a tree in a field not too far from the faire. The sun was high in the mid-afternoon, warming the grounds and the air.  Somewhere the clack of wooden swords and the shouts and music of the celebration rang out, but the two were oblivious. She was half sitting, half lying on the grass as he rested his head in her lap, on the folds of her linen dress.

“I'm keeping it trimmed, but...,” he paused for a breath, “But the last time I actually shaved was over a month ago.”

He went quiet for a moment, as he thought back on all that happened that morning. A lot has happened since then. A lot has changed. She’s not so timid any more, not so likely to hide her beauty in the shadows. She’s brought me into light as well.

“I remember that day,” she chuckled, “You tried to sell me into slavery!”

“You told me to! It was your idea!”

He listened to her musical laugh. He also remembered that day. He remembered the fear. I remember the explosion, and the fight. Trying to find you, and find the children. That was a very dark day for me. I was so lost, so confused. Then at the cathedral...

Her voice got quiet, “There were many times, when we were in the manor, in chains, and then later, in the fight... Many times that I as good as gave up. I felt so alone. I didn’t know if you would ever find me. But I had to get out. I had to save the children. I gave all I could in the fight, but it wasn’t enough. I thought we were done. I thought it was over.”

A breeze blew across them, bringing a bit of cool in the warm shade. He started to speak, but she shushed him with a finger on his lips. “And then you stepped through Thissraelle's portal and I heard you call my name.”

She breathed deep and looked down on him, “That was all I needed. I heard you call my name, and it was like I could breathe again. Somehow you had found me, and that was all that mattered. I knew we would do it. I didn't know how, but I knew we could win.”

She continued, “And then I saw him hurting you, and I knew how much that pained you. I remembered from the dungeon. I wanted to take the shocks like you had done for me. And then I saw you alight with power...”

Antonerri sat up and faced her. He reached his arm around her. “It was your determination that saved the kids. I had to find you. It was you that saved me.”

He kissed her once, then again, then held her, face-to-face.

She reached up, embraced him, and held him, close and tight, not letting go.

In the distance, music played on, and people danced in the summer sun.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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90 - Dance the Circle - Antonerri - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

“DANCE THE CIRCLE!” The jester called out, “EVERYONE! JOIN IN! YOUNG AND OLD!” The bells dangling from the points on his hood jangled as he spun. His shirt was a loose pattern of colored triangles, and his baggy pants flapped with the motion of his prancing legs.

It was a hot, sunny, and muggy day. It was the time of the SummerFaire, three days of celebration. Dirae was not a large city, but neither was it a tiny village. It was an important trading spot between the palaces, shops, and slums of the City of Twynne Rivers, and the western hamlets along the Wynne River. The faire brought in celebrants from many miles, drawn to the festivities by the diversion from their labors as well as the chance to buy and sell.

The streets along the city plaza, not too far from the waterfront, were lined with tents, and full of people. There were more children out now, as parents felt safer in the town. Colorful streamers were strung from tree to building and building to tree. The smells of roasting nuts and newly-baked breads blew through the plaza with the breezes.

“WHO’LL JOIN ME?” The jester called out, continuing his swirls. He stopped, smiled across the crowd that had gathered, and slowly looked around. From his left, a drummer sitting on the ground began to slap out an energetic beat and, in a moment, a fiddler and a piper jumped into a melody.

“YOU WILL, WON’T YOU?” He pointed at DeFrantis. She barely had a moment to object before he had leapt over to her and taken her hand, dragging her forward. She laughed and shrieked, then reached out to grab the hand of Lilia, the young girl standing next to her. The girl, and two others, skipped into the circle, shouting and laughing.

Granthurg called out to them, as Thissraelle and Eddiwarth began clapping along with the music. Antonerri watched them go with a thin smile on his own face, wanting to jump in, but holding back, a little bit timid. They fell into the rhythm of the music and the many people in the plaza stepped aside to make room for the circle. Others grabbed hands and joined the line as it passed them. More children got in the line, along with their parents.

Antonerri couldn’t help but stare at DeFrantis as she danced, hand-in-hand with the jester and the kids. Her dark hair also danced as she looked back and forth from the jester to the children. She had tried to braid her dark hair that morning before they left, but it just wasn’t long enough yet. She had been quite a bit frustrated in trying, but in the end had settled for a simple cloth and bead headband. When they had arrived at the plaza, some of the girls had handed her some flowers they had picked and those were now twisted into that band and her hair. Those flowers now bounced with her locks against her forehead and down over her laughing eyes. The tune was familiar, and she and most of the dancers began singing along.

As the chain of dancers circled around to the music for the third time, the Jester reached out and grabbed Antonerri’s arm, giving him a shove into the line. Jerked out of his trance, Antonerri shouted and stumbled his way along.

The musicians picked up the pace, making it even harder for him to keep his proper footing. After a few moments, he gave up trying to match the steps and just jumped along in the line. In the confusion, he glanced over and saw DeFrantis laughing at his fumbling feet.

The music changed up again, and the jester stepped aside and closed the gap by bringing the two hands he was holding together. He spun away into the center, shouting, “DANCE THE CIRCLE! CIRCLE ROUND AND ROUND!” Antonerri suddenly realized the hand he was now holding was DeFrantis’. Instantly, he caught his breath, his mind went blank, and he almost lost his balance. A few quick side steps and he was back on his feet, jumping along.

“Try and keep up, old man!” He heard her say, and her voice mixed with the melody and the singing. He had to look down at his feet and catch his balance. He happened to look up and matched the jester’s eyes. They had a knowing smile that seemed to say, “You’re welcome!”

“Hey-o, hey-o...” DeFrantis’ sang with the crowd. He smiled at her, but didn’t know the melody. He didn’t have the breath to sing, anyway. “Hey-o, Hey-o,” The kids sang with her, as the musicians brought the tune and the dance to an end. The children began cheering, and everyone dropped their hands, clapping and laughing.

Except Antonerri. He just stared and smiled at her, and she at him. He didn’t let go. He gently tugged her closer.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
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89 - Stables and Stability - Granthurg - A Tale of Heroes

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<<<>>>

The smell of the warm summer night in the stables lingered with Granthurg as he crossed the courtyard to the main hall of the monastery. The cluster was surrounded by the trees of the Umbrawood Forest, keeping it well isolated from the rest of the world. Still, it wasn’t too far from Dirae, and the cathedral there.

The lantern he carried shone brightly on the ground surrounding his feet. It was a traditional oil lamp, not a magical oculus gem, making the flickering glow. He stepped up onto the back patio of the abbey hall, and began to remove his large soiled boots. He knocked the dirt and muck off of them and set them by the back door, slipping some sandals onto his feet in their place.

In the two short weeks since they had returned from their battle to save the children, the monks of the abbey had been quick to figure out a way to make him sandals. Being a giant, about eight feet tall, his feet were easily twice the size of the largest human in the monastery, if not more. Making him a bed had been much more involved, so in the end, they gave him a thick pad of straw that they refreshed frequently. Being used to sleeping on the hard deck of his barge, he felt that to be the height of luxury.

After dinner this night, he had helped them get the draft animals in the stables, and put the carts away. It was often easier for him to just push the various carts and wagons into place, where it would often take two or three of the monks much more time to do the same work.

Now, as he entered the building, he turned down a hallway toward the great library. This was the time of the day he enjoyed the most. All was quiet, and he could relax by himself...  ...and just learn! There are so many books and so many scrolls here! There is so much to for me to learn!

With a click and a creak, he opened the great oaken doors and stepped into the room. He walked to the large table in the center and set the lantern down. He stepped over to one of the walls. They were covered, except where the windows stood, with shelves of books and racks of scrolls. Next to each window was a candelabra. Granturg carefully removed one of the candles and carried it back to the table to light it from the lantern’s flame. Then, he began stepping around the room, lighting each of the candles mounted by each window.

He was about half-way around when he stopped. In one corner of the room there were some large and comfortable chairs. Thissraelle was sitting there, waiting for him.

Granthurg smiled. Her small high-elven frame seemed to be almost swallowed up in the huge seat. Her whispy, light hair and white tunic contrasted sharply against the deep red-brown leather. She smiled, too, but less enthusiastically.

Oh-oh. Something’s bothering her. I can tell.

He carried on lighting the candles. “It’s been a beautiful summer’s day, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, beautiful.”

Granthurg laughed. “I wasn’t serious.”

She tossed her head back onto the chair and let out a long sigh. “You know me too well.”

Yes, I know you pretty well. He’d only known her about a month. But in that time, they’d travelled and faced dangers together, and shared many secrets. They had become very close friends. “Let me guess: Karendle’s not getting it.”

“No! Not at all!” Thissraelle blurted out. “She doesn’t have a magical bone in her body! There! I said it! She wants it so bad, and she tries so hard, but she just can’t do it!”

“No matter how you show her...?”

“I’ve tried so many different ways to explain it. I’ve tried to teach her so many things.” She wiped her eyes with her hands in a vain attempt to find some clarity, or at least to ease away the tiredness. “Nothing I try works. She gets so tense!”

“What about those flying stones I had to dodge the other day?” He asked, “That seemed to be working.”

“Yes, but that was using the oculus. As long as she’s using the gems, she can use magic. It’s like she has no will of her own. And Eddiwarth! I shouldn’t even start talking about him!”

Granthurg sat down next to her. “He’s not helping?”

“No! Definitely not helping. He jumps in and starts using his own powers to mess with her. He thinks he’s helping, but he just frustrates her more. Today, they got in a big argument. I just left them out in the forest.”

“Maybe you could just turn them both into rocks that they could toss at each other.” The look that she gave him showed that she did not at all think that was funny. “...Or not.”

“I’m not helping them. I don’t know why I’m trying, really.”

There’s more to this. I can tell. He turned in the chair to face her and looked with a skeptical eye.

“I’m serious! Really! Why am I helping them?” She put her head in her hands, then looked up at Granthurg. Her voice got quiet. “You were there. You heard them tell their stories. They were both after me, trying to capture me. Karendle would have sold me off, and Eddiwarth was going to fetch me back to my father. So, why am I helping them?”

I want to tell her that it’s all going to be fine. That they’re a part of the team, and they’ve changed. But I don’t know that for sure, either. He put a hand on her shoulder. It looked awkward, as large as it was, but it seemed to soothe Thissraelle. She leaned into it. “I think you’re the only one I can fully trust, here.”

“You’re helping them because you have a large, kind heart. Really, you’re the heart of the team. It’s true that without any of us, we wouldn’t have been able to rescue the kids. But without you drawing us all together, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place. DeFrantis and Antonerri would have tried on their own.” He let out his own sigh. “And you know how that would have ended.”

“Yes. I guess.” She nodded and leaned up against him. “...But is it safe for me here?”

“It may not be.”

I wish it were, but it might not be.

<<<>>>

This continues the story of the heroes in Wynne, in Twynne Rivers, in the world of The Hero's Tale, Family Friendly RPGs. Here's more info on The Hero's Tale, and family friendly RPGing. If you like this story, support us at our Patreon!
Thank you: Chet Cox, Genevieve Springer!

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