Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 8:59 — 13.6MB) | Embed

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Email | RSS

Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a further instalment of this wonderful story from Elgarion, entitled
The Tavern Respite
Background music “Tavern Song” by Ome the Bard

Chapter 4, “The Doomsayers”
The merchant’s wagon stopped in front of Bear Tavern, letting its passenger, Elgarion De’Kahli, climb down onto the dirt road. Elgarion looked to the drover with a kind smile and stated, “Thank you, sir. Your kindness is immeasurable. I hope to repay you o–” Elgarion was interrupted by the crack of the drover’s whip above the heads of the draft horses, which were quick to lumber forward at their master’s command. “Eh, if ye weren’t so withered, I’d a dropped you at the gates. Best ye not wander so far, old man. Next ye meet someone less hospitable.”
Elgarion watched in dismay as the wagon bounced away at a surprising pace; the wood and metal seemed to jostle rudely to him. As he turned to the tavern, soreness overcame the sorcerer. So many miles upon the road from Ardoris, and he felt all of them in his aching arse. Slinging the sack of books he had gathered upon this week’s journey over his shoulder, the survivor of Kahli hobbled up the staircase and into the main common room to Bear Tavern. The room was warm, and already prepared for the upcoming eve’s patrons. A fire crackled to his right, which garnered the interest of his weary and chilled bones. Plopping the books onto the floor at a corner, Elgarion approached the hearth.
To his pleasant surprise, there by the fire, Stryker Sparhawk had already began to savor his evening with a fine ale. Having only escaped the limbo of the Void some several weeks prior, Elgarion initially distrusted most he had met. That is… until finding refuge in PaxLair. Stryker was one of the first to offer friendship to Elgarion, and the old man took the gesture willingly. So many years he spent trapped in incoherent misery. His mind craved interaction and answers, and as time passed, Elgarion began to realize Stryker also was searching for something. Smiling, Elgarion, dust covered and exhausted from his venture, sat upon a pillow beside his friend.
Balec joined the two almost as soon as Elgarion had arrived, and the festivities of recounting the tales of this week’s journeys commenced. The proprietor jibed on occasion, teasing Elgarion for his soreness when the groaning sorcerer complained of bumpy roads and potholes. Of note, this day, Balec Fares deCani sat amongst them. Not as their proprietor, but as a companion. Elgarion had even fetched the man a beer, to show a kindness and appreciation for the service Balec had always been so dutiful to provide.
As the evening waned, more arrived. Most were familiar to Elgarion, and he was happy to have their company yet again. Others were new to him, such as a man that goes by the name of Night Fury. Kind. A good heart, Elgarion had thought. High borne, surely, for his dress and manner were exemplary. Another, by the name of Thurisaz Sheol was polite in greeting, a good listener, and well attentive to the conversations of others. Again, Kazyn Phoenixfyre had taken refuge from the cold night air for an ale before retiring. Kazyn brings with him a presence to the room. I suspect highly, that this individual is well respected by many. An elf… one that seems to have bested the hardships which weigh heavily upon others of his race. And just as the fire was diminishing, two others arrived last minute to offer good tidings. Jack Knyfe and Ravicus Domdred. Neither took time for ale nor hardly a word. Just to see them stop in, showed there to be a comfort in routine common to all.
Near an hour they spoke of the news of the land, then one by one, each went about their way. Some to their homes. Some to their steeds to journey into the night. And one, to his chambers above. There, Elgarion sat, as was the norm upon the eve of his return each week. Quill, ink and parchment laid before him, and as an archivist, he scribed his recounting of events.
Stryker searches for “White Hart”, as I do for Kahli. I do not believe this coincidence that our fates follow similar paths. I intend, in my studies, to search for mention of this “White Hart” as well. And by chance, if he will share my road, I will welcome his company.
Balec, he sat amongst us today. Duties called him into the wilds to combat the elves. And to my dismay but pleasant surprise? The man offered his sword arm to my cause and my search. With Stryker, could the three of us reach every corner of these lands without fear of ambush? Alone, I walk only the most travelled of roads. Together? We could take to the mountains. There, I know… Kahli is hidden.
Again mention of the Doomsayers was made. This time, from my lips. I inquired if there were sightings. There were none. I suspect reports of this threat might be exaggerated. Perhaps my mind is better spent with worry about undead or elves.
I made mention of my impending appointment with the High Priestess of Chaos, Lady Amber Raine. Her offer of aid to my research nears fruition, and I grow worried over the propriety of the encounter. Others, to include deCani, suggested better attire, which I hope to acquire before said meeting. But in the least, they put my mind to ease that the High Priestess was of a kind sort, and I needn’t worry about any ceremonial considerations in her address. Already, I have acquired many volumes to study in preparation for this rendezvous. I hope that I will be adequately prepared.
The elf, Kazyn Phoenixfyre, made offer of his family’s library in Port Phoenix. I most assuredly must travel there per his invitation. I’d be a fool to turn down an offer of aid, and one of this magnitude doubly should not go…
Elgarion sighed in frustration. He spoke with almost a chuckle, “Just upon my last sentence… it would seem Chaos demands I take rest.” With stiff movements and occasional moans of pain, Elgarion dressed for bed, then slid in amongst the sheets. In only seconds, tired soul drifted away. His dreams this night returned him to the road. Upon a wagon he travelled. With each toss and turn in his slumber, another hole was struck by wagon wheel, and even in dream, his arse took more bruising.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 8:38 — 12.8MB) | Embed

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Email | RSS

Hello everyone, this is Asclepius,with a further instalment of this wonderful story from Elgarion, entitled
The Tavern Respite
Background music “Tavern Song” by Ome the Bard

Chapter 3, “The Two Companions”
After a long week of arduous travel and an amazing evening of adventure, Elgarion returned to his chambers above the common room of Bear Tavern, kindly offered to him by Balec, the absent proprietor. The note Balec had left him was thoughtful, and Elgarion made certain the basket was well utilized for the ale he and his friends had imbibed that eve. The mere notion that Balec would have the forethought to think of him, caused Elgarion to ponder and to become certain. The old sorcerer made a mental note–if Balec had his best interests in mind, this refugee from Kahli would pay in kind. Somehow, and soon, Elgarion would reward Balec for his generosity and commitment to fine service. Setttling himself, Elgarion sat at his desk, and began to write in his journal, recounting the lessons and peculiarities of the day’s happenings.

When I had returned to Bear Tavern that evening, already inside was a man with whom I had become recently familiar, Stryker Sparhawk. Stryker was engaged in dance with a charming female, whose lithe movements caused me some embarrassment Her unseemly motions were befuddling to me, and alas, (as any gentleman would) I averted my eyes and sat upon a stool at the ornamental oaken bar, instead admiring the wooden creation likely crafted by the careful hand of a fine artisan. She departed, her name I do not recall. But then Stryker and I accounted of our week’s journeys in stride, as if meeting every seven days had become the norm.

Shortly after, another arrived. Blake Blackstone, the dwarf. He strode in and quickly sat to my left. It was good to be amongst friends. We drank the fine brew of Bear Tavern, leaving coppers and gold in the basket as Balec had instructed, and told tales, most of which, I now struggle to remember.

Balec had made mention that recording the conversations of his patrons had left some… rather uncomfortable. So now I attempt to record well after our encounters and am likely to forget much of what transpired. All for the sake of propriety.

Blake Blackstone mentioned a man whom I must most definitely seek. A historian, of sorts. A rare profession, and rarer yet to find one bearing talent for that calling. I hope to make his acquaintance. Enderandrew. A most unusual name. And also one, unforgettable. Certainly he must know of the populaces still in this world which might have existed from before The Fall. He most certainly, can help this lost soul.

Again, the Doomsayers. The Outlanders. Stryker and Blake both spoke with worry. Neither had encountered a Doomsayer, but I did learn, that Outlanders… many of the very people I have met, to include Blake and Stryker, consider themselves as such. They even stated I was one. Certainly, I played along, but why do they believe this? It seems the Outlanders are common and apparently accepted. The peoples of this world are so different from before. I have much to learn. And as Stryker and Blake suggest, I must seek an elf by the name of Bowen. For he holds the key to these Doomsayers. If I were mistaken to be an Outlander by friends, would these Doomsayers make similar assumption? My explorations might become unnecessarily… challenging, if so.

As if our topics had not delved into enough gloom, I broached the subject of The Undead. Upon my first meet with these fine folk, they had expressed much concern over the Undead which plagued the wilds. Now, they made mention of a Spirit Speaker which enticed an apparition to speak. “Malice” was the word it had said. I assumed it was a place, and Stryker thought specifically, a dungeon. Catacombs are home to many of the unliving. Perhaps our next encounter, I might coax some of the brave souls in Bear Tavern to speak more of “Malice”. Imagine what histories I might uncover amidst the treasures of the entombed. With companions, perhaps I might even journey to such a place.

And, lastly. Highiron. The city belonging to an organization known as the Tantalus, if I recall the dwarf’s words correctly. On a whim to show us his home, Blake summoned such magic to transport us there. I did not know that such sorcery existed in today’s world, but this spell — I must learn it. I can’t even begin to imagine how my search for Kahli could be hastened if I possessed such power. Alas, the journey proved uneventful. Highiron is a grand city, with a unified people. I met another there, their planner, Harry. The city’s beauty was a testament to his devotion. But as quick as we had arrived, the tour was cut short by night fall, and to PaxLair I wished to return. Blake stayed and I returned with Stryker, also possessing such magics of transport. Perplexing. I am truly awed by the powers of these… Outlanders.

Before I retired, I looked across the common room. Empty. Candles waned. I had hoped to see the one called, Amber. She had made such an impression upon this old weary man, last we met. I suspect her library to reveal many answers to the riddles which toy with my perceptions. Perhaps soon, I can enlist her aid. Thus far, PaxLair has offered me sanctuary. The people of PaxLair have shown me friendship. And I suspect this individual can render much aid to my cause.

Now, in my chambers, I prepare for another night of torment. I know what the darkness will bring to my dreams. The limbo, my prison for so many years, will take me again. At least as I slumber, I will return to my people, even if only as a conjuration of my haunted mind. My place is with them, and to that end, I will not stop until I find them. And free them. I take some solace, that in some way, I will return to them tonight.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 8:09 — 12.1MB) | Embed

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Email | RSS

Hello everyone, this is Asclepius,with a further instalment of this wonderful story from Elgarion, entitled

The Tavern Respite

Background music “Tavern Song” by Ome the Bard

Chapter 2 – Return to Bear Tavern

Elgarion shuffled his way down the darkened hall to his chambers above the common room of Bear Tavern, an establishment which twice now has brought him the comfort of a fine ale and friendly folk. The door opened with a squeal, which comforted him to know unannounced guests would likely be heard. Setting his sack of books and scrolls upon the desk, he quickly cast aside his boots and sat with intent upon the desk’s chair, pulling out his journal again with quill and ink.

Balec had just warned him that some of the patrons were not taking kindly to Elgarion’s scrivenings, consisting of their names, their stories and even sketches of their personages. “Bah… how indeed will I remember all that is said? Though, the man does make a point.” He stated to the air in the room. Certainly a proprietor of such an establishment had learned, through the years, what his patrons prefer. Elgarion decided to rethink how he would document the happenings of Bear Tavern, or in the least, try his best not to offend those most secretive. Recollecting the past nights discussions, the venerable sorcerer spent another hour before succumbing to sleep, recounting this evening’s tales and news of lands abroad.

They spoke of the horrors of starvation after The Fall, and the drunkard even spoke as if he was there, during that time. Could these merely have been the imaginations brought on by ale? Many spoke of these stories, however. The dwarf, called Blake by those present, said there was a place, The Bluffs, which harbors deep caverns beneath. Caverns which housed the starving masses after the cataclysm. I suspect, strongly, that if these catacombs are littered with the dead of those lost during the Fall, likely, their most precious belongings were lost within. Diaries accounting of these horrid times are likely to be found. Perhaps even survivors from Kahli hid within the labyrinth. I must find these tunnels, for amongst the remains of the fallen, the fate of Kahli might be revealed.

Again, the drunkard spoke… almost in riddles. A grimoire of ancient origin. If I can speak to this man away from prying ear and watchful eye, perhaps he will reveal more about the nature of this text. I will introduce myself to him next we meet. And perhaps, I can get a few words from him before he loses his wit from drink.

The one called Kazyn Phoenixfyre… he has knowledge of an ancient city which bears a name most familiar. Could it be that Trinsic existed before the Fall? Could I know this city? If he holds texts which detail the origins of such a place, surely there could be mention of Kahli. And only… I can only dream this to be true, but if Kazyn knows the location of Trinsic, and I can learn of Kahli’s relative position from it? At last I might have found a way to Kahli. If I am so lucky. The history of Trinsic must run deep. A tale of Tel’Anor Arator, The Phoenix Egg, seemingly speaks much of its greatness. A city which apparently took its insignia from that same runic symbol. I will certainly pick the brain of this Kazyn, a man seeming most receptive to conversations of times forgotten.

And again, the dwarf spoke. Daedalus. Weeping Seven. Cryptic words for a confused soul, such as I. Next we meet, when words become sparse and uncomfortable silence ensues, be assured, I will ask questions of these. The answers I seek could lie in any tale or news from abroad. I must not discount any possibilities.

The lady. They called her Amber. She overheard the ramblings of my weary lips from a weary mind. I perhaps embarrassed myself with such bold blatherings of my quest for knowledge. But alas, she took a kindness upon me and offered a most valuable and generous gift, an invitation to view her extensive library. I was confounded by surprise and possibly a little flustered from the wine. I most certainly will take up her most gracious offer and somehow repay her in kind. The Book of the High Priestess. It will be the first I ask to see. Clergy, often granted divinations by the gods, chronicle well the histories of each era. I doubt not that this libram might hold valuable knowledge. But from what era? I will soon know. And with Amber’s assistance with translations, my work will go quickly.

Elgarion De’Kahli turned the journal back several pages, stopping for a moment upon each. The sketch of the tavern from this evening, the sketch from the week prior reminded him of other conversations which he had nearly forgotten. Hastily, he jotted them down, his penmanship suffering as his weariness grew. His notes from before, he read them again, aloud to himself. “Nothing… I asked… nothing,” the old man grumbled to himself. All the notes from the week prior, the questions he intended to ask were never broached. Now, the list had lengthened. So… so many questions. No answers. The start of so many tales. Whispers of places unfamiliar. The undead. Piles of books unread. Elgarion sighed deeply, then closed his journal and capped the ink. After wiping the quill clean and dousing the candle, he set his studies aside for the evening and turned to the bed, lying down upon the feather mattress. Again, staring into the darkness of his chamber, he quickly slipped into sleep. The Void had claimed him again, and this dream would not bring answers. It only brought fear.