Monday, November 17, 2008

Chapter 6 ~Chuck Berry Don't Fail Me Now

Brant slept hard after his day of learning. It was a lot for one human mind to hold but Brant knew he didn’t need to be able to recite it all, he just needed to have it told to him and let his associative memory do the rest. When Brant woke up, the dragon was gone. He got up from where he lay and stretched vigorously (gold is poor bedding for any but a dragon) before he looked around to see if Pob left him anything to tell Brant where he was. There was nothing. To pass the time, Brant pulled out his harp and started practicing first his chords for warm up and then a few of the short songs he was supposed to know by heart by the time they got to Parity. It was when he was in the third refrain from “Court Birds A-Prancin’” that Master Quick walked in with a elderly man with washed out auburn or rust colored hair. He wore glasses that were perched precariously on his nose and was bent of stature; giving him an over-all feeble look. Despite all this he walked with an alacrity that belied his age.
“Good day, Young Rubs.” Master Quick said with a small smile. “I see you are still in the right arrangement of body parts, so I assume all was fine with you. I have brought the contact I spoke of, a librarian by the name of Nester Andrews. He has extensive amounts of knowledge and, more importantly, access to the library of a monastery near here. He will be spending some time with us to make sure you get a good smattering of everything we can throw at you. I wish I could make you a bit more specialized, but we just don’t have the time so we shall have to give you a little bit of anything and everything.”
“It is good to meet you, Young Master Rubs. You and I shall get along quite well I bet.” Nester said in a slightly wizened voice.
Brant nodded along, “Uh huh. Okay. Well that is cool and all, but before we go we should wait till Pob comes back. I want to thank him for everything and say good bye to him.”
“We don’t have the time. Pob will be out hunting for at least a week.” Master Quick said pulling Brant along towards the exit of the cave.
“A week?” Brant said slightly incredulously.
“Do you know how much food it will take to feed him?” She replied.
“Well, yeah, but can’t he just find like a manticore or something big enough to eat off of?” Brant asked.
“When was the last time you saw a manticore? They don’t exactly grow on trees, thank the gods.”
“Okay, okay. Well then I guess let’s head to Parity.”
The rest of the trip to Parity was filled with talks about all sorts of trivia. Now that Brant had an inkling that he was in a world based on D&D he was actually more knowledgeable than either of his teachers expected him to be. He played it off that he had learned it all from Pob. They were impressed at his retention rate. He used his bracer to scan Master Quick and Nester Andrews and found that it gave stats for them too; just as it had with Pob. Master Quick was a level 12 Bard/ 5 Swashbuckler. She had a rather high Charisma and Dexterity, but Brant already knew that. Nester was a level 10 Wizard/ 2 Loremaster. This fit in well with his personality as a quiet librarian.
The trio rode up in sight of the small little village of Parity. It wasn’t very impressive. This was actually giving it too much credit in and of itself. The “village” was barely a group of hovels together around a village green which had the only really stable looking building around, the Crying Wolf Pub. Surrounding Parity was a roughshod palisade made of poorly sharpened logs.
Brant stopped his horse where it stood and just starred at the villagette. When the other two realized his absence from their presence, they turned around and looked at him in askance. All he could do is to look Master Quick in the eyes and say, “You expect to teach me how to deal with people in this meager gathering of lost souls? It would take a third the time to make a Gather Information check here as there are only 5 people to actually ask.”
“This is as good a place to learn as any, Young Rubs. And what is a Gather Information check?” Master Quick said in reply.
“It’s a…. never mind Master Quick. You would not understand me if I told you. Either way, I find it doubtful to learn much in the way of people skills.”
“Actually, the presence of not one, but two bards in a little village like this will bring in all the farmers from the surrounding countryside as well. You will double Parity’s population in next to no time.” Nester piped up and added to the conversation.
“Fine, fine, forget I said anything. I will follow the wisdom of those much older and wiser than I.” Brant said raising his hands in defeat, with only slight traces of sarcasm in his voice.
The three travelers rode into the quiet little town and felt sorely out of place. Everyone in the town stopped what they were doing and starred silently at the new comers, probably astonished at seeing people that rode horses instead of just driving them in front of the plow. They rode into the small stable aside the pub and stabled their own horses. Brant promised his horse, that he had named Brea, that he would get a rub down before Brant went to bed. Brea snorted appreciatively. It was weird, but Brant thought the horse could genuinely understand him.
They walked into the pub and were greeted by the rather unwholesome smell of stale ale mixed with sawdust. There were several chairs and tables in an order best described as bedlam. The bar itself was only inhabited by three people: a quiet elf staring into his mug, a snoring man with his mug’s remains dribbling out onto the bar, and the bar tender himself who had a mug in hand that he was polishing with a cloth that was probably doing more harm than good in the cleaning. He looked to be a man of maybe mid-thirties, with graying hair, a sharp nose, and sallow skin. He looked up at the three strangers and said in a tired voice, “What can I do for you, friends? It is so odd getting new customers at this time of day.”
“Well, Master Innkeep, my protégé and I are bards by occupation and were wondering if we could get room and board in exchange for raising your sales for the duration for our stay. We don’t require much, just a solid roof over our heads, some food to keep us strong at our work, and customers to ply our trade to.” Master Quick said in what sounded to be a well rehearsed, and tried and true spiel.
The Innkeeper seemed taken aback at being propositioned so, before putting on a face of deeper thought. Brant could tell he was trying hard not to leap at the offer so he could drive a better bargain. The cogs almost visibly clicked around till the Innkeeper finally said, “I shall have to hear your skills before I could accept such an offer.” The Innkeeper said in a falsely shrewd voice.
Master Quick knowing better than to insult a possible patron, no matter how dull witted, began to unsling and tune her harp as she said, “Of course, Master Innkeeper. I can not blame you for wanting to make sure my word is true, and it is good sir, it is. I have a repertoire of songs that would fill several books. I know stories from all eras. Just ask for a song of your choice and I shall pluck it airily from my harp.”
Again beset with a request, the Innkeeper’s face scrunched once again in thought before he said with a small smile, “I would like to hear ’Effington Way’. I have not heard that since the last bard came through four years ago.”
“A fine choice, good master.” Master Quick said as she began the rapid staccato plucking that now familiarly started the requested song. She wound through the choruses with a deep feeling of knowing that transcended simple practice and required actual skill to pull off.
The Innkeeper had to give himself a start when the music had finished. He looked at Master Quick and her companions appraisingly before he said, “I can give you food, but you will have to find another way to get room. I don’t think you are quite worth as much as all that.”
“Oh, give over, Haetor. You know damn good and well that a single night of her bringing customers in would more than pay for her room.” The entire room turned and saw that the man that had previously been snoring in his ale had woken up enough to shout out thusly.
“Shut up, Vaylen. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Haetor said in a mix between embarrassment and anger.
“Just give them the room you old skinflint. You’ll more than earn it all back anyways.” Vaylen replied. “How about another pint?”
“Fine, you drunken sot. They can have the room too. Why not just run my pub into the ground? Then where will you drink?”
“I always get by. You know me.” Vaylen said with a cheeky grin.
Brant, Nester, and Master Quick took their things to one of the only three rooms in the inn. After setting their things down, Nester laid down on one of the cots provided and said he was going to rest a bit. Master Quick and Brant went down into the village streets with their harps and found a grassy patch to sit in and start practicing songs for that night. The intent of this was, of course, two fold, first to get Brant ready for whatever patrons they had that night, and second to attract attention to the fact that there were two bards in town. After a while, there formed a small crowd around the two harpers. As night began to set in, Master Quick stopped playing and stood up.
“Thank you all for being so attentive, if any of you would like to continue hearing me play, sing, or maybe want to hear legends of yore, my apprentice and I shall be performing at the Crying Wolf in about an hour. I hope you all shall join us then.” Master Quick said to a set of quiet applause.
That night there was an audience of mayhap nine patrons. Judging from how hard Haetor had to work just to keep up with these nine, this was the biggest audience the place had seen in a while. The next day went similarly, and the next night had even more people watching raptly as Brant played simple songs while Master Quick sang or told stories. This continued through the rest of the week, with the crowd slowly growing bigger and bigger till Haetor had to hire one of the local girls to bus tables for him while he made all the drinks.
Finally at the end of the week, Brant’s musical skills had progressed enough by Master Quick’s standards that he would be taking center stage for a while that night. As night drew closer, the familiar feelings of butterflies fluttered weakly in Brant’s stomach as usual before any sort of performance. He subdued these as he picked through a dozen songs that he knew till he finally landed on one that he was sure would win the audience over. Walking up on stage, Brant smiled a little inside feeling a little McFly in him as he knew he was about to rock these people’s worlds.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Chapter 5 ~ Oh For The Lack Of A Hobbit

Brant stared at the small plant that was supposed to be good for thickening blood, or so Master Quick had told him. He walked over to where she was busy gathering some mushrooms; they were growing at the base of a tall tree that appeared to be an oak. “So can you tell me what the defining features of Soldier’s Gum is?” She asked as she examined the cap of the mushroom she had just picked.
“Soldier’s Gum grows mostly in damp areas and always in well shaded places. It has variegated leaves and is recognizable by the thick tuber-like stalks it has. Master Quick, am I training to become a bard or to be a druid?”
“I have often been confused for one. Listen, Young Rubs, you will not always have a healing spell for the day or have access to pre-made medicines. You won’t always have lots of food in your pack either. I am teaching you things that can get you by when necessary. Now, I think we will spend tonight over near that cave to the east of us. It’s a good place to rest and I think you will be needing some more time before meeting people.”
They made camp and began their evening meal preparations. While Master Quick toasted the mushrooms, she told a story of Gotheryn the Mad, a sorcerer that had done great and terrible things before he was defeated in a battle with a group of wanderer led by Robin Bellerond, a good mage in his own right. After the mushrooms were toasted, if not to perfection, at least satisfaction, Brant had to recite the entire story from memory and one from the past night or so; both with personal embellishments. The first time he had been required to repeat a story back, he had tried to keep it as close to her story as possible. She congratulated him for a nicely parroted story. She told him neither she nor any patrons he might ever serve wanted to hear a story just memorized by rote; there had to be a sort of feeling and connection between the teller and the story to make it worth while. He was supposed to keep all the main points as faithful as memory allowed if not more so, but beyond this he was to add flair and flourish as he saw fit. She said, truly, that the story that she had told him was not like the way her master had told her and Brant’s story wouldn’t be like hers. This is what made each and every bard, gleeman, minstrel, jongleur, or jester unique and kept people coming back to hear the same tales and songs over and over again.
His music advancement, while slower than Master Quick liked, was progressing nevertheless. After practicing several commonly requested songs a few times through, he plucked a little at the other assignment his Master had given him, write an original piece to be finished by the end of the apprenticeship. He thought over the repertoire of songs that he had learned so far. A few ballads like “Willows, Over and Down”, “Song of Asphodel”, and “Lost Love’s Loss”; a few dances like “Dark Lark A-Risin’”, “Round She Goes”, and “Horses Trotting”; and a few bawdy songs “The Tinker’s Mistress”, “King’s Crux”, and “Gnomish Lullaby”. Aside from these he knew how hundreds upon hundreds of songs sounded like and with a little help from the spell, Ghost Sound, that Master Quick said she’d teach him when they got to town. He thought after the lyrics came to him, he could just add music themes from songs he knew from back home to make a song unlike any anyone here had heard.
Brant was picking at his harp long into the night watching the stars complete their slow promenade across the night sky. Master Quick fell asleep after only an hour of listening to him pick out random riffs from songs he knew. He looked over behind his teacher and saw into the aforementioned cave. It was pitch black, as was to be expected, but the cave’s opening was a bit to neat and tidy for Brant to accept that it had happened naturally. He grabbed a large branch, wrapped some moss around the head of the branch-now-torch, and lit it before preceding into the cave. He progressed slowly into the cave and decided that he had been correct, this was no natural cave. There were no stalactites or stalagmites to be seen. Walking and keeping his eyes on the walls and ceiling, Brant tripped on some uneven flooring. This caused him to drop his torch and, of course, it went out without much of a fight at all. Trying firmly not to panic at being in such oppressive darkness, Brant tried to concentrate on the energy within him to caste one of the few spells he had managed to learn without too much trouble. Humming a few bars of “Here Comes the Sun”, Brant managed to get his fingers to cooperate and make the proper somatic components to cast Dancing Lights. Four bright orbs of light bobbed and wove around Brant in a satisfactory manner needing only his occasional attention to putting energy into the spell. He decided that while he had the spell going anyways, he might as well continue for a bit to see where this artificial tunnel lead to.
He rounded a corner to see where it ended shockingly in a huge cavern that had a pile of gold and, atop the pile, a dragon. Brant’s heart almost leapt to lodge itself in his voice box before he noticed that the dragon’s scales were a shiny brownish color. Brant guessed it to be a Copper Dragon. As Brant was trying to decide where to go from here, his choices were taken away from him. The dragon awoke and just raised its head off his front claws like some vaguely interested dog. A very, very large dog.
“What Have We Here? Some Lost Wanderer Perchance, Or Maybe A Scoundrel Here To Take Some Of My Hoard. Speak Intruder!” The dragon’s voice boomed in the relatively small cavern.
“What, scoundrel? Me? No, Sir Dragon. I am not here for your riches. I am afraid that I am simply plagued with a bit too much curiosity for my own good. I apologize for intruding on your slumber, I’ll just be going now.”
“Hold Mortal! You Cannot Leave Here With Knowledge Of What You Have Seen. My Hoard Would Be At Risk.”
“I don’t suppose my word as a bard wouldn’t be enough to assure that I have no such intentions?”
“Hardly. Mmmmm. Perchance We Can Come To An Agreement. I Am Bored For Lack Of Entertainment. If You Could Mayhap Offer Some New Story Or Joke, I Can Let You Leave, With Your Word As A Bard To Tell None Of What You Have Seen Here.”
“A joke you have yet to hear Sir Dragon? Of course. I can offer the odd joke or riddle, if that will assure my good will.”

~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~~*~**~*~*~~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~**

Thella awoke to a thunderous sound that came blasting from the depths of the cave behind her. Apparently, the dragon was still in residence in the cave. She looked to see where her apprentice was sleeping so she could roust him and move them to somewhere farther from the over-sized lizard. However, he was nowhere to be seen. She felt her stomach bottom drop a bit as she looked at the cave, shaking her head. Why did she get the stupid apprentices all the time?
Casting, Bull’s Strength, Good Hope, and Dancing Lights in rapid succession, Thella ran into the cave with her rapier drawn until she got to the cavern where she saw both here apprentice and the copper dragon, Poblin’nestura’gnoc laughing.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~~***~*~*~*~*~*~**~~*~*~~*~

“So he said, ‘It’s a knick-knack Patty Jack, give the frog a loan, his old man’s a rolling stone!” Brant yelled above the dragon’s bellowing laughter. He looked over at the cavern exit and saw his Master run in stop and just hit her forehead with her palm.
“What in Fhalanghn’s name are you doing in here?!” she yelled stalking towards him.
“Master Quick, allow me to introduce you to Poblin’nestura’gnoc. He….”
“We Know Each Other.”
“We’ve met before.”
“Oh,” Brant said taken aback. “Well, that’s easier I suppose.”
“How are you doing Pob? Your hoard looks to have grown nicely since I last saw you.”
“Yes Thesallonius. I Have Done Well By Myself. I Would Like To Inform You That I Approve Of Your Apprentice.” Poblin’nestura’gnoc boomed.
“So glad to hear it Pob. I don’t think he does too bad of a job but he has much to learn, like not wondering into a dragon’s cave while the dragon is home and asleep. It’s a good way to get melted, wouldn’t you say, Young Rubs?”
“Uh, I mean, of course, Master Quick. I was just admiring Poblin’nestura’gnoc’s workmanship on his tunnel and sort of found myself here. He taught me how to cast Prestidigitation. It should be useful when we reach Parity, don’t you think?” Brant asked with a very innocent expression on his face.
“Yes, Young Rubs, I suppose it will at that. Well unless Pob requires your presence any further, we should head on……hmmm, unless…. Pob, would you be willing to watch my apprentice for a day or so? You have a better memory of history and legend than I and I have a contact that might be able to help me better teach my young apprentice in the short span of time that we have together.”
“Hmmm, I See No Reason Why I Can Not. It Would Provide An Interesting Diversion And I Have Taken A Shining To The Lad. Certainly Thesallonius. Go And Make Your Contact And I Shall See How Much Of My Centuries Of Knowledge I Can Impress Upon Him.” Poblin’nestura’gnoc said with a smile at the end.
“My thanks to you, friend Pob.” She said then redirected her gaze at Brant. “You don’t suppose I can leave you here and have you not run off or get involved with some other being of immense supernatural power, do you?”
“But of course, teacher dearest. I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, what better story can I tell my friends than that I was trained by a dragon?”
“Few enough, Young Rubs. Few enough. Well don’t cause trouble and ask lots of questions because there are few who have more knowledge than a dragon,” Master Quick said as she walked outside with Brant. He gathered his belongings and watched his teacher ride off into the early morn.
For the rest of the day, Brant spent time in Poblin’nestura’gnoc’s cave hearing story after story of wars, kingdoms, wizards, and knights. He learned a few other song’s as Pob was quite knowledgeable about entertainment at large. They exchanged shortened life stories (otherwise Brant would have been listening for the entire day and more) and became rather fast friends in the short amount of time they spent together. For awhile, Pob even transformed himself into a human, with coppery curled hair, and drilled him one rapier and longsword forms. With the knowledge of ages to back him up, Pob was a learned teacher and skilled to say the least.
Later in the day, Brant was just listening to Pob recite the history of the city, New Union, and playing with a small dragon bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship. Pob stopped and eyed Brant and the bracelet he was holding.
“Something wrong, Pob?” Brant asked sitting up from his relaxed position.
“When You Started Playing With That Bracelet, A Small Magic Resonance Sang Out. Do You Have Anything Magical That It Might React With?”
“I don’t think so. Not except this bracer that I got from Zeddicyme.”
“Try Putting The Bracelet On The Bracer.”
“Okay.” Brant did as he was told and felt the bracelet slide up his arm till it came to the end of the bracer near his elbow where it clicked and stuck. Brant held up the bracer to show Pob, when suddenly a hologram of sorts projected itself a few inches above the ruby in the bracer. It was a hologram of Pob and all sorts of stats were being projected next to the picture of Pob. What shocked Brant the most was that he was very familiar with these particular stats. It traced out Pob’s Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Hit Dice, Base Attack Bonus, Spells per Day, and Spell-like abilities. These were all statistics that could be found in the Monster Manual for D&D 3.5.
“What Is It Rubs? What Happened?”
“It’s hard to explain but I think this bracer, combined with the bracelet let’s me see information about those around me. Everything from their relative Strength to how many spells they can cast per day.” Brant said still stunned from the discovery.
“If This Is True Then You Have Found A Very Powerful Artifact Indeed. You May Keep The Bracelet As A Gift From Me To Aid You On Your Journey. Now Then Where Was I….” Pob said as he trailed back into the story he had been telling.
Brant was only paying half attention as he watched the information about Pob scroll alongside his picture. He didn’t know how things had worked out like this but this offered interesting considerations for him to bring forth to his comrades when he saw them next. Maybe the Fools were not as out of their depth as they originally thought.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Chapter 4 ~ Adventurer Wanted: No Resume Necessary

The Fools offered their thanks to Zeddicyme then walked out the large wood-worked, double doors. Outside was a long stone bridge leading from the ground to the palace over the moat that was at least 30 yards. All along the bridge were several horses with a single person to each two horses. Some of the people had the look of being the trainers themselves and some looked to be lackeys sent to retrieve their Fool.
Peace was approached by a boy of no more than 16 in long dark robes similar to the ones that Peace had been given, except his were the rich red burgundy of the Master Summoner. In a rather squeaky voice, the young boy said, “My Master has sent me in respect of your Master, as your Master is very busy, to retrieve you for your Master to begin your instruction.”
“Riiiiiiggggghht.” Peace said cautiously. “Well guys, let’s hug it out. (Much hugging ensued.) Then I’m off to see the Wizard, hell, next time I see you I’ll be a wizard. Have a good month guys.” He followed the apprentice to the two roans and mounted. The horses started at a run and suddenly grew large leathery wings and took flight to the south.
A lithe man in a dark cloak walked towards the Fools and looked directly at Steven. “You look like the kind of fighter I’m supposed to train. Don’t worry about it though. You and I will get you a set of leather armor once we find a town with enough supplies to suit your training. Say goodbye to your friends, they’ll be seeing you soon.”
“That’s my cue, guys. I hope things go well for all of you. Fare well.” Steven said turning.
“Hey you!” Brant called out. Steven turned back quizzically. “After you join the fighter-in-leather brigade, you and me are gonna spend some time in a tavern to talk about our month right?”
“Sure, you buy.” Steven said smiling. He followed the man in the cloak and walked with him and the horses towards the forest to the northwest, all the while the man in the cloak was showing Steven how to hold the bow right to avoid snapping his arm.
Beard was the next to be approached by a man wearing a mix between cured hides and furs. He nodded at the Fools as a group then eyed Beard up and down. “So I suppose I’m supposed to turn you into something intimidating. Maybe you can help your friends out of a tight spot with just intimidation. I personally think you don’t have it in you to start a fight right, let alone finish it.” The man said in a gravelly voice.
Without hesitation, Beard strode forward and said, “What does a solar plexus say?”
“What?” The confused wild man uttered before Beard planted a full-bodied punch to the man’s solar plexus. The man looked at where Beard had punched, and started to laugh uproariously. “You’ll have to do better than that to injure me friend, but maybe you do have what it will take. Let’s go see if we can make men into monsters and monsters into scared and running children.” Beard gave them all a gruff but heartfelt nod and walked off to mount his stallion and ride due north to the Wastes.
Renee’s trainer is the next to approach. The Fools knew this was her trainer as he was covered in scale mail, had a sword strapped to his back, and a large shield strapped to his arm with the golden emblem of Pelor the Sun God emblazoned on it.
“I am Yuren Tobal, and I have come for thee, maiden. Thou and mineself shall spend many an hour together for the next two fortnights. Bid thine companions farewell, they willt seest thou ever sooner as we progress in thine training.”
“Well then fair companions, see ya in a month.” Renee said with emphasis on her separate structures by her accent moving from Elizabethan to Bronx.
“Take care Renee. We’ll see each other soon enough and we will all have a lot to joke about.” Ryan said with a small smile (no pun intended).
“Of course T-Rex. You two take care as well, don’t get stabbed or anything.” Renee said. She and Yuren mounted the two white mares and rode off to the southwest where mountains rose high on the horizon.
A man in plate armor, holding his helmet under his arm, walked forth briskly and gave the kind of unit marching stop that made both Brant and Ryan stand at attention and snap salutes. The man gave a smile that didn’t seem to appear often on his face then said in a clear kurt voice, “Which one of you recruits are going to be my lieutenant for the next month?”
“I am, SIR!” Ryan yelled in response.
“Good response, soldier. At ease, you two. I am Sgt. Mazram Awellin. You are about to undertake a very exhaustive month if you do not have the ability to lead to satisfaction. For the first half you will be spending time as part of a unit during the day to learn your troops well, and will be spending the night learning tactics and orders with me. For the second half you will be taking command of a unit and leading them in exercises against myself to show me what you have learned. If you are lucky Lieutenant, you will be seeing some actual battlefield experience on the eastern war front. Have you any questions?”
“Sir, no SIR!” Ryan replied. “Good bye, Brant. I wish you the best of luck.”
“And to you Ryan. Sleep well. I think your nights shall become very short in the nights to come.” Brant replied.
“I shall. By the way, Game Time. Ready to go sir.” Ryan said turning back to the Sergeant.
“What is this game you speak of Lieutenant?”
“It’s better you don’t know.” Brant said with a small smile as he recovered from having just lost the Game.
“We have a long ride ahead of us to where the army is bivouacked. Why don’t you explain this game on the way, Lieutenant?” the Sergeant said with a note of more command and less suggestion in the ending question.
“Sir, yes sir.” Ryan said with a smile as he mounted his horse aside the Sergeant and rode to the south and turned towards the east. Brant just shook his head at what kind of havoc had just been unleashed on an entire army.
He looked over at the last set of two horses and saw a woman leaning on the ornamental corner work of bridge. She appeared to be asleep. He took this time to observe her a little. She wore a hose and doublet combination not unlike his own except that instead of a vest she had more of a corset. Her cape had embroidery but was worn on the bottom edge. She had a rapier on her belt and had some lace coming out of her sleeves. On what he assumed to be her horse, there was a bow and quiver strapped to the saddle in easy reach. On the other side he could see what appeared to be a lap harp case. He saw a second one strapped to the other horse as well. This excited him a little. He had always wanted to learn such an instrument. He walked forward to see what his harp looked like, reached for the case, and if he hadn’t been expecting it he would have been hit by the dagger that clattered to the stone. He looked over at his teacher and said, “Are you CRAZY?! You could have killed me.”
“First things, first. I was NOT going to kill you. Next, I knew it was only going to graze you at worst. And lastly, yes I’m crazy and the sooner you accept that the better off this little learning experience will go. What was it that tipped you off then boyo?”
“Well, crazy lady, there were a few things. First, I saw the small head shake that you let escape when I looked so intently at your harp case. Then I noticed that there were some cuts in your lace. I assumed that instead of you just keeping some really long nails, that you kept throwing knives up your sleeves. From there I was just hoping that either you wouldn’t actually throw knives at your student or that I could dodge fast enough.”
“Well at least you have observational skills on your side. Do you know how to play an instrument?” she asked rapidly.
“Um, drums, I guess but nothing that can do any sort of melody.”
“Okay she said. How about stories? Do you know any stories that could entertain a tavern crowd?” she continued her barrage of questions.
“A few probably. None from this land. I should probably learn some from here, I bet people have favorite stories they like to hear.”
“That’s later. Can you use a weapon?”
“I have decent ability with a rapier and some skill with a long bow. I at least know the forms to use a bastard sword appropriately.”
“Well that is better than average I suppose. Do you know any magic?”
“Hmmm actual magic? No, I can not say as I do. That will take some learning.”
“Well, I suppose overall you are a more skilled apprentice than I am use to. Teaching you what you need to know in a month might not be as impossible as it seems.”
“So what am I supposed to call you besides crazy lady? That might start to get awkward in most social circumstances.”
“Well, Thellonius the Quick is how I’m known in several of the major cities. That’s taken a few years to build up and put out there in the publics eye. If you want Thella works, Master Thellonius, or, hell, Master Quick will suffice. Tell me you name in turn my young feisty apprentice. It won’t be the one you continue with after our time together is at its end. That is the name you need to earn. But I need something for now.”
“My name is Brant. I’m also known as Rubble or Rubs. I’m pretty easy as well.”
“Hmmm Rubs…..okay. Well let’s get started. We have a three day trip to Parity, and then things get really started.”
“Wait, I thought we weren’t going to Parity till the end of the month. Why do we need to go there?”
“What use is a bard in the wild, Young Rubs? Not much I’ll tell you. We shall use the time we spend in the wild learning stories, legends, music, and hopefully magic. Then when we get to town we start to teach you your true job, dealing with other people. Who knows, you might even earn some coin in the process.”
The two mounted up and started at a walk towards the west. There was a road to be followed and the horses wanted to follow it by and large as mostly underbrush was at the roads edge. This left their hands free most of the time, so Brant started learning his scale on his harp. As he plucked out some tunes he knew by pattern more than skill, he realized that this was going to be an interesting endeavor.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Chapter 3 ~ It's Like A Second Puberty...

Brant woke up first amongst the Fools. He had had a rather nice dream, but he rather forcefully made himself understand that it was just a dream and that he wouldn’t be getting out the easy way. If that even was the easy way. Nothing really made as much sense as it should, and at this point making sense of it all was almost a wasted effort. Brant sighed lightly then heaved himself up to sitting position on his bed. The morning was still on the horizon and it was this more than anything else that made Brant feel like things were going to be all right, for all that his opinion mattered in the occurrence of events anymore. Brant looked over at the table where the Fools had had eaten last night to see all signs of their repast completely gone and was instead replaced by what looked to be a breakfast of tea, toast, and porridge. Quietly getting up, Brant saw a small stack of clothes at the bottom of the bed and began to put them on. He had to sigh yet again as he slid on the provided hose; he wasn’t a huge fan of hose but at least they were a rich forest green hue. The lighter green trousers slid over that and fit like they had been tailored just for him; eerily so. The poet shirt came over his head and airily rested on his shoulders while he tucked it in making sure to not get any awkward bunchings. Next came the vest, also in green as seemed to be the pattern, followed by a leather belt with belt pouch, leather mid-calf boots, and a brown, hooded cape made of some unknown light material with a simple hook clasp. Brant moved around quietly in his new duds, and found them very natural moving and aesthetically pleasing. He walked over to the other side of the room to look into the full length mirror that he had been avoiding with the bed he had chosen.
Brant’s jaw dropped and he uttered a horrified “JABBA!!” as he had been so stricken speechless by what he saw. His features had become more slender, more vulpine in nature, and his ears had taken on a rather distinct pointed aspect. Brant had turned into an elf!! Over from his bed, with the sound of being still asleep, Ryan yelled out “MURDER, MURDER, MURDER!!” At this the other fools woke up to varying degrees and at seeing each other all yelled in one unified “JABBA!!” All of them had been changed to one degree or another, all except for Renee. Beard had become more squat, compact, and his prodigious beard had grown to enormous proportions. Peace had become even more vulpine in nature and had ears with a more excessive point than Brant’s (so apparently he was a half-elf). Steven and Ryan were both very much smaller in stature than they had been. Ryan was shorter and Steven had grown a very neatly kept goatee. Drawing from what he knew, Brant assumed this made Ryan a halfling and Steven a gnome.
Everyone began talking at once:
“Omigawd, your beard is…”
“Ryan you’re even shorter than…”
“Dude your ears are really…”
“Awesome my goatee is all like….”
This was the point where Brant, who had had the most time to cope really, yelled, “TIME OUT!!!” And all the Fools stopped what they were talking about and replied back, “HUZZAH!!” “Time in,” Brant finished. “Okay so I woke up like this…well not all dressed, I did that, but with the ears and all. At this point I think we just need to talk to Zeddicyme about this. Until then, let’s all get dressed and have some of the breakfast provided to us, because I have a feeling that today and the next couple of days will be difficult.” Brant scanned the faces of the rest of the Fools and then walked over to the table and started making a cup of tea. The other Fools began to slowly, one-by-one, get out of their beds and apply clothes. “Apply” was the best term as few of the fools got much beyond hose and poet shirt equivalent. The lacings were unfamiliar, the medieval style of buttons, while simplistic, wasn’t necessarily intuitive. Brant set down his tea cup and walked over to aid the Fools in dressing themselves since this was his bailiwick and he had been dressing in Medieval garb for three years now. Beard had all of the different leather thongs appropriately tied well before Brant got to him. Renee had the most clothing items to put on but was rather functionally capable. Brant just had to help her lace up her bustier on her underclothes. The Fools were all familiar enough with each other that being this close to each other was no really big deal.
After everyone was well and fully clothed, they all sat down to eat. For Steven and Ryan, a couple pillows from the beds were required to get them up to normal eating level. All the Fools knew this was a minor grating matter for Ryan, but he seemed to take it in stride as well as Steven did. Breakfast went well enough, and was almost as entertaining as the conversation going around the table. Brant put some fruit, of some nature, along with some honey in his porridge and stirred it while watching the rest of the Fools experience their race shift. After the sun had gotten a hand above the horizon, the familiar girl servant walked in. She had a slightly bemused expression when she saw the changed Fools before she said, “The Master Summoner requires your presence so he can see you off on your way to your respective trainers.” She waited expectantly while the Fools made small attempts at ordering their dishes before following her to the Two Stones Room from the day before. On the desk, that had been covered in scrolls the day before, was now covered in trinkets of all sorts: baubles, rings, necklaces, and other jewelry.
Zeddicyme was standing next to the desk with a broad, Stu-like smile. “Welcome friends. I can see you have all sought your internal race aligned with this plane. Don’t worry this is natural. It will change some of your abilities slightly, but not by too much. I hope, of course, that you had a good nights sleep and two good meals in you as you shall all be training for at least a month with your assigned trainers, and knowing where your next meal will be coming from will be hit or miss. Before you leave however, I have here some trinkets of some small magical worth that will aid you in your endeavors. Each of you may choose one before you are transmitted to your trainers. Who is first?”
Peace stepped forward and grabbed a small clear spindle shaped stone and said, “Is this what I think it is?”
“If you believe that what you hold is an ioun stone then yes my friend. It is. It will alleviate any requirement for food or water so long as you let it orbit your head.” Zeddicyme replied. “Then this is my choice. I mean who needs to eat really. I’m already an elf so sleep is out anyways.” Peace said.
Beard stepped forward and looked over the table before he picked up a pair of gloves, one was blue while the other was brown. “Ah, those will probably aid you well in the wild my friend. Those are the Gloves of Swimming and Climbing. Inventive name isn’t it?” Zeddicyme said wryly.
Ryan was next to grab an item and chose a small cloak covered in patches. “Interesting choice. That is the Cloak of Useful Items. It is more of a just-in-case item in any set of circumstances. Guard it well, it might help you in odd circumstances.”
Steven strode forward and intently stared at all of the magical accoutrements before and grabbed up a backpack. “Please let this be what I think it is…”
“Heward’s Handy Haversack. Interesting choice my rogue friend. It will aid you well in all of your endeavors. Legal or otherwise.”
Brant walked forward and contemplated a few choices, a ring here, a necklace there, but what really caught his eyes was a worked leather armband with an emerald embedded into it. There seemed to be places to put other stones and attachments. Brant picked this up and looked askance at Zeddicyme. “Hmm, that particular arm guard has an interesting ability to give the status of a given target. It uses a language unknown to me and even more foreign words. Maybe you will eventually learn to work it. And you my dear? What would you like?”
Renee walked forward firmly and took up a necklace with two baubles dangling at the end and said, “I’ll take this. It calls to me for some reason.”
“Oh, uh… well that isn’t a trinket at all, that is some of my past wife’s jewelry. You can keep it if you like, but I would like you to take an item of actual worth as well.”
“Okaayyy. Thank you. I guess then I take this ring.”
“I am uncertain as to how useful that will be but maybe you will get lucky. That is a Ring of Fire Resistance. Hopefully you are the target of some flame to get the full use of the gift. But either way you have made your choices. I must apologize yet again, but I am required elsewhere in the world. I shall wish you the best of luck in your quest, and tell you that I will certainly see you again. After each of you have finished your individual trainings, you are to head towards the little town of Parity and wait for the rest of your party to catch up. From there, go where you will and find the reason of your quest. May the Gods guide you. Fare thee well.”

Monday, November 3, 2008

Chapter 2 ~ Which Hat Will I Wear?

The Fools followed Master Summoner Vebron over to two large upright standing stones with various runes inscribed all over in various colors of some kind of ink. The stones were vaguely the height of a really tall man and were within another pentacle on the floor. Zeddicyme walked to the stones then turned around and said, “Who will be first to have their traits judged?”
None of the Fools were shy about things, but as far as getting to it first, Steven had the rest beat. “Dibs!” he called as he jumped forward. Zeddicyme smiled slightly, in a way that was scarily like Stu, and motioned for Steven to step between the stones. After Steven had complied, Zeddicyme started to chant under his breathe in a language that was foreign even to the two linguists amongst the Fools. At first nothing occurred, but slowly, after 10 or 15 seconds, several gold bands formed around the two stones. Upon looking closer, Brant realized that the bands were actually characters of some language moving rapidly around. After only a minute or so the bands started to slow in their spinning until finally a parchment appeared as if from no where and floated down into Zeddicyme’s outstretched and waiting hand.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Brant said suddenly curious, “But where did that parchment just come from?”
“Ah well as to that,” Zeddicyme started, “the short answer is magic. The long answer is conjuration magic.”
“You just conjured that piece of parchment into existence?” Ryan said questioningly.
“Oh, no. That wouldn’t quite work out right. I keep forgetting that not everyone can see the little imp.” Zeddicyme waved his hand and a small red imp holding a clipboard and quill materialized from on top the left stone. He glared at Zeddicyme then looked at Peace and drew his finger across his throat.
“That is enough from you!” Zeddicyme said as he waved the imp back to invisibility. He scanned over the parchment then looked up and said, “Well according to this you have plenty of agility, a decent amount of charisma, and have a small penchant for being a wealth redistribution specialist. Looks like you could work with either Gert Hyals, our resident thief trainer, or Oberes Tapis, our archery marshal and woodsman. Perhaps you should speak with both and see what works best for you. Who is next?”
Peace stepped forward into the circle and went through the same process till Zeddicyme was reading from his parchment. “You have an interesting mixture of traits. You have interest in the cogs that drive the universe, enjoy complex work, and have an odd want to set things on fire. Sounds like you should study with one of our wizards. There is only one that as of yet has no apprentice, Karse Whuvias. He’ll be a good master, I bet.”
It preceded similarly for each Fool with the minute of standing in the Dweomer, then the analyzation of their personality, and then an assignment of a teacher to guide them in their new occupation.
To Beard: “There is a lot of anger with you. I don’t see how you can function in normal society but then again that is just me. You have some proficiency with different kinds of weapons. I believe a friend of mine who lives in the wastelands to the north can help you find a constructive, or maybe more destructive, focus for that anger. He goes by Dest the Darker.”
To Ryan: “You have much potential as a leader. You are goal oriented and are great at supporting those around you. I think I’ll send you to my line sergeant, Sgt. Mazram Awellin. He will teach you the ways of leading troops in the midst of a battle.”
To Renee: “You have a pureness of self and compassion that can lend itself well to our goal. I think you can train under our local paladin. He has been on several quests and fortunately is here between questing. I shall send a missive to Yuren Tobal at the local Church of Pelor about the subject.”
And then he came to Brant’s: “Well this shows that you aren’t really good at anything.” Brant’s face fell a little hearing this. He had hoped for his skills in archery or fencing to give him a bailiwick worth doing. Or maybe his love of nature to lead him to becoming a druid. “Your best trait is your people skills and how you relate with them. I believe that with the training in weaponry, interest in the occult, and love of music you could make a nice minstrel. You will be able to open doors for your friends that they cannot open themselves. And I mean doors in a social context, the ones your roguish friend will probably be unable to even get close to.” He finished with a smile. “I will summon the royal bard from court. I am sure Thellonius will find an apprentice to be an interesting diversion from court politics.”
Zeddicyme rolled up the parchments and turned to walk out. “Wait,” Brant said, “So that’s it? You’re just going to give us jobs and send us off to do battle with some vague evil without even seeing if we want to or any sort of assistance from you?”
Zeddicyme turned slowly and looked slightly thoughtful in an expression that looked completely foreign on Stu’s face. “Well as to your acceptance of your task, it is completely up to you but you cannot go home until you have fulfilled your task. I assumed you would want to go home eventually and so would go forth on the quest naturally. As to the assistance, I was of course planning on providing you with gear, directions on where to start your quest, and a little magical trinket for each of you to aid you in the trials to come.”
“Oh…. Well. Yeah, that makes sense then.” Brant said loosing steam as he went.
“I shall have you housed here till I have arranged for your training. I bid you good night, I have much business to attend to. Take heart friends, you shall be making a great difference for many people. I shall see you off on the morrow.” Zeddicyme said as he walked out of the room. Before the Fools had a chance to exchange much beyond glances, several servants bearing the Master Summoner’s livery walked in and beckoned a separate Fool each to follow them so they could get clean and prepare for bed. The Fools all exchanged looks once again and through means of communication only born through close teamwork, they all agreed to follow the servant’s but remain watchful.
They were all lead down the hall into two separate roman style baths. There the servants started to undress the Fools. The guys, while leery with there being some females aiding in the undressing, they had all played ankles and tried to pass off their laxity with the other guys there. Renee, the flipside, could be clearly heard giving the male servant hell for trying to help her undress. The very chastened male servant walked into the men’s bath to switch places with the girl helping Beard undress. All the male Fools were smiling broadly at the man.
They bathed without talking much about what was on all their minds while they were being watched. Instead they talked mostly over how bizarre this all was and how much the lye soap they were using burned. Steven made a Fight Club reference and all the Fools looked a bit more disgustedly at the soap. Drying and dressing in the clothes provided to them was done in near enough silence. From there they were lead to their mass room were there was a small repast laid out for them on a table in their room. The head female servant, the one that had retrieved them from the pentacle rooms, showed them how to summon the servants in the night if needed and then left them to eat and sleep at their leisure.
The Fools, all realizing how exhausting and draining being summoned to another world was, set to the meal of what looked and tasted like roast chicken with vegetables of both known and unknown nature and a light cream based soup having what seemed to be potato in it. After all had had a chance to eat sufficiently to quell their immediate hungers they began to eat with a more moderate pace and to talk over their predicament. They all agreed that while this particular situation might be less than ideal, doing good and adventuring in a world of knights and magic would be nice as well. They all had varying reasons for saying so, but they all agreed that they would do their best to right the wrong in the world so they could go home. After coming to this conclusion they began to animatedly discuss their assignments for trainer. Most of them agreed with their descriptions by Zeddicyme and with their associated job.
They all finished their food and started the motions to getting ready for bed. Most of them were talking in pairs about this or that. Peace talking to Beard about how, soon, he would be able to shoot fire from his hands; Steven talking to Renee about how interesting her assignment sounded; and Brant and Ryan mostly just talking of enjoying the food.
As they got into bed, Brant paused in the conversation and then said, “Ryan….how do you feel about this whole setup? I mean I like how this place sounds, its right up my alley so to speak. I mean if you go with either my major or my D&D hobby, this place seems to match right up with it, but it just seems a bit coincidental. And what about Cowboy and Stu? Why didn’t they come along with us, ya know, as one of us?”
“Hmmm well, I don’t know good buddy. At this point, I’m just sorta going along with the ride. I think we all. Thankfully, as improv comedians we are all pretty good at just accepting what comes and moving on.” Ryan said with his hands behind his head on his pillow.
“What do you think about how much our wonderful benefactor, Zeddicyme, looked like Stu? Do you think it coincidence or do you think that our collective psyches are having an effect on this world and that people we know are represented here?” Brant asked quietly as he laid on his side facing Ryan’s bed.
“I don’t know Rubs. Hell for all we know this could be a parallel universe and it just has a lot of people that developed differently than the people we know and love in our world. Who knows?” Ryan said, turning over, clearly preparing to sleep.
“I don’t know either Ryan. I mean that makes sense but until we meet other people, I just don’t know. I guess we’ll just have to go with the flow, but then as you said we are pretty good at that. Good night, Ryan.”
“Good night, Rubs.”
Brant continued to think over the events over and over until finally he realized that he had really just gone to sleep in his world only a scant few hours ago. Maybe he would wake up there and this would all be a dream. Maybe it wouldn’t be… but as the darkness of sleep over took him, Brant quietly hoped that this wasn’t a dream and that a real adventure would finally be his.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Chapter 1 ~ And I Give You The Ship Of Fools

Brant looked out at the smiling crowd. Like his comic fellows lined up beside him, Brant was letting the energy of the crowd wash over him. This was what he enjoyed most of being an Improv comic; putting oneself fully into a character or a scene, giving it your all, and having the audience reciprocate that energy with laughter and happiness. His teammates and him had just given an excellent performance at the Towle Theatre in Hammond, Indiana, and they knew it. Brant had been hosting this particular show that night and he was supremely pleased that everything had gone so well.
"Thank you, ladies and gentleman," Brant called out with the kind of smile that a Miss America contestant would be proud of. "One last time, this is Andrew "Peace" Blatt, Ryan "T-Rex" Garwood, Steven "Angel Hair" Saltsman, Eric "Beard" Talbert, Renee "Kamikaze" Leyburn, John "Cowboy" Clauson, Stu "Bottleopener" Ogle, and I am Brant "Rubble" Bell. We have been your Ship of Fools! Good Night!"
The Fools ran off the stage into the dressing rooms Towle Theatre had provided them. All of them were still juiced from the performance and continued to joke with each other and quote lines from the show all the way to the little diner they went to, and on through dinner.
After dinner the Fools went back to the hotel they had rented this year. Most years when they came to Hammond for a show they would stay in SOG's, a older Fool, Mom's house. Recent rains had left her basement damaged from water, so the Fools were staying at a local hotel this time around.
Even though they had gotten two rooms to hold the eight Fools, none of them were tired yet, and instead all gathered, clad in varying forms of pajamas, in one of the rooms; the one that Brant would be sleeping in as it turned out. Discussions ensued over the show, now thouroughly analyzing all that had transpired at the show that night. Was this joke necessary? Did one of us break a basic improv rule? Was there anything more that we could have done to better fit the audiences mood that would have improved the show that much more? The show, as they all knew, had been a very successful one, so little was said critically. On the flip side, more time was spent reliving the show's better bits and jokes. Imitations were done of each other with ever increasing flair. Brant sat quietly, basking in the glow of a show well hosted and performed, observing the Fools, his friends. Brant sat on the arm of a poufy armchair that Renee was occupying. Directly across from him was a full length mirror quizzically placed on the wall next to the doorways to both the bathroom and the bedroom. Brant eyed himself, seeing a guy in his early twenties with red hair(he had redyed it), glasses, Peanuts pajamas, and a deep stare looking right back at him. He smiled at himself then turned to look at the rest of the Fools.
Peace was talking animatedly and with his hands, as always. The Fools' captain was the same age as Brant with brown wavy hair that he kept under his Newsboy hat. Ryan, the most experienced Fool, was smiling and nodding along to Peace's story, his curly fro-ish hair was bouncing along with his bobbing head. Ryan was the shortest of the Fools, but he never let that get in his way too much. Leaning up against the wall, was Beard, with his eponymous facial hair, his Newsboy hat, and a small smirk as he watched Peace. Brant looked down at Renee as she broke into Peace's story with a well placed one liner. She had her long hair in a single braid over her shoulder. Cowboy followed her pun with one of his own from where he sat on the couch, next to Steven who threw a chiding comment into the exchange. Suddenly, Stu jumped from behind the couch and mimed slitting Steven's throat, which he immediately went along with and fell to the hotel carpet floor.
They were a motley crew this Ship of Fools, but they worked as a team and joked like a family. Brant was happy to have fallen in with this group. On the surface, it was a simple group of eight college students that liked to joke around, but there were many connections that bound the Fools together. Steven and Brant had been friends well before joining the Fools and had been roommates together since they had come to college. Peace and Beard were similarly aligned with each other, being high school buddies. Both of them lived with Cowboy, and the three of them were practically next door to Renee, where she lived with Jenny, Ryan's long time girlfriend. Ryan had been with the Fools for many school years and was as much Peace's second in command as Peace had been when Ryan had captained the Fools.
Brant reflected on this as he got into his side of the bed that he would be sharing with Ryan. "You know, we are a pretty diverse group, Ryan." Brant said off-handedly.
"Well.....yeah."Ryan replied after a slightly confused pause. "Why do you mention it?
"I was just thinking about us in a survival situation. Ya know, hypothetically speaking."
"What kind of situations?" Ryan asked.
"Well, things like: who would win in a battle royal amongst the Fools? Who could survive the best in a primitive setting? Which one of us could adapt the best to an apocolyptical cataclysm?"
"I would say..."
"Without Benji being an option." Brant quickly inserted.
Ryan gave a sheepish grin before he said, "It'd probably be Beard for the first two and who knows for the last. This is, of course, my opinion, but yeah."
Brant smiled in reply and turned out the lights as he contemplated things further. He drifted off to sleep as he wondered if he could take Beard if he had to......

...... Brant looked around himself to see a spartan room with only a door out and a pentacle on the floor. He pushed himself off the floor and looked for where the light in the room was coming from but could find no actual source. Brant rubbed his arms as felt the hairs on his arm standing straight up. Then he realized that the reason was because he felt a sort of charge in the air; not electricity but still something tangible around him. He walked over to the door and as soon as he crossed the circle of the pentacle he could feel the charge disperse around him. He opened the door and came into a hall with several similar doors to his left and a dead end on his right. Out of the second door on the right side of the hall, came none other than Peace; who immediatly walked over to Brant and said, "Welcome to my dream Brant. I wonder if the other Fools are here?"
"Peace, I don't feel like this is a dream exactly. It feels too.... heavy. I don't know, but I guess all we can do is go with the flow."
Out of the second door on the opposite side of the hall came Renee, quickly followed by Ryan, Steven, and Beard all in succession from their own doors in the hall. All were confused and all of them agreed that this was probably not a dream or that if it was, it was a pretty damn elaborate one. At the end of the hall the door opened and in walked a woman in a cream skirt and rust-colored blouse. She walked directly to the group of Fools and said, "The Master Summoner greets you and wishes you to follow me to the Conjuration room where he will explain everything."
"Well that sounds shiny," Brant muttered as the Fools silently followed the young girl through a myriad of halls that twisted and turned all throughout wherever the Fools were. The halls were fairly plain with only the occaisional piece of artwork or ceremic to detract from the sameness. The entire trip was made without seeing anyone else, which unnerved Brant. This seemed like too big a place to bear so few people.
They stopped at two large, red, wooden, double doors where the woman swung the large brass knocker twice, turned to the Fools and said, "May Pelor guide your steps." And walked away. Most of the Fools stared after her open-mouthed and confused, except for Renee who was the only one to hear a man beckon them in and opened the doors; shocking everyone out of their stupors.
The Fools all funneled in to the room only to have all of their jaws immediatly drop a second time. There sitting at a desk in the room, looking incredibly tired and considerably older was Stu in long burgundy robes. He was of course smiling, and said in a weary voice, "Come in my friends."
All of the Fools acted simultaneously and rushed Stu to hug him and ask him why he was wearing the robes. He looked incredibly surprised and raised his hands to ward off the onslaught of the touchy friends. "Now, now what is this? Who is this Stu person you mistake me for?"
"Leave off, Stu. Poor taste to mess with us like that." Beard said.
"But I am really not this Stu you speak of. I am the Master Summoner Zeddicyme Vebron, and I have summoned you six heroes here to aid this world and return it to balance."
"Stu cut the...."Peace began.
"No, Peace. I think he's serious." Renee said.
"What kind of aid are we talking here?" Ryan asked Zeddicyme.
"That is the problem. I have no idea what it is that is actually threatening the world, I just know that the best place to look for heroes that can fix it is out of this plane of existence. This is why I have brought you here. "
"So let me get this straight. You have whisked us away to some world to help return it to balance but you have no idea what it is that is misbalancing it in the first place?" Beard asked slightly incredulous.
Zeddicyme cringed but nodded sadly. "I, of course, wish that I knew more, but the best I can do is to set you up with a little guidance from some of this world's legends and epic heroes and give you some magical talismans to aid you in your quest."
"Look, I know that this sounds amazing, what with going on a quest and all, but I would prefer to just go home now if it's all the same to you." Steven said matter of factly.
"Would that I could friend, but doing such a summoning in the first place is very tiring, and the circumstances built into the summons require that you finish the task you have been summoned for before you can return.Aside from these things, I have summoned you for a very important cause and would be loathe to let my efforts go to waste in such dire times. But that is for later. For now I will need you all to walk through the Dweomer I have built specially for being summoned under these constraints.”
“So you have done this before?” Ryan asked.
"Well, yes, I have done this several times and so far none of the groups I have summoned have set the world back on a path away from cataclysm. I have searched with ever increasing constrictures to find the right team and I have every belief in you." Zeddicyme said as he walked over to the Dweomer. "Now then. Who is first to learn what heroes they should study with, because in the past, most of the groups are less than heroes when they arrive here?"

Opening Statement

Hello all and welcome to my blog for my NaNoWriMo. D&D is the name of the game here. My story will be concerning a certain group of my friends, the Ship of Fools, and I as we go through a world based in D&D 3.5 edition. There will be spills. There will be chills. And I can guarantee that two people will die, and only one will be resurrected. As those in the know, well....know, a character can be resurrected by ones teammates with spells like raise dead and resurrection. This will only be happening once. So here we go reader. And let the Game begin.

Brant "Rubble" Bell