SCENE I
The tavern he got was much bigger than the old Narrakort Tavern where he was housed. The building itself had a different smell, the smell of private property, his property. Narrakort Tavern had four rooms on the ground floor and four rooms on the first floor. The inn he got, in its current state, had eleven rooms that could be used. Many who knew him bet the bard would do nothing to restore it to its former glory. But again, many knew him well. They lost.
The tavern at its height had twenty rooms, seven bathrooms and eight toilets.
The interior configuration was different from that of other pubs, most of them were single or double floored. It was the oldest and most famous tavern in town.
A large fireplace was stationed in the center, thus illuminating the entire room. He sat in his favorite chair, smoking his pipe, watching the shadows on the freshly painted walls and supports. Ther
They appeared from the bush, silent as shadows, a group of at least a hundred man armed to the teeth. They rode in silence. The horses were silent, as well. The whHaotaiga was silent. There was nothing else to it, nothing at all. Why and from where did they come to this part of taiga? What did they search for? Those were questions that were hard to answer.Their faces were covered with beech-wood masks that gathered above the forehead that was decorated with two long straps of colorful cloth. The rest of the mask was decorated with fur, feathers or colored pieced of oak that made a form of harmony. A harmony that was terrifying, to say the least, but none the less it was a form of harmony. Some might say it was a horde of demons that rode their terrible cavalcade, they weren’t wrong. This group was more demon than man. They rode. The leader stopped, looked at the sky above. An eagle flew above, it was an omen. The group stopped. The lea
IThrough High Hill a strange figure ran, it almost levitated, face hidden behind an plain hood of the rough woolen coat that danced on the wind like wings. The figure moved with above human speed, not even stopping to safely cross the slippery, moss-covered, rough-edged stones that appeared here and there. Plain deer hide boots walked without rest over the uneven terrain.High Hill, as the locals with suspicious looking faces called it, was still richly decorated with deciduous trees, even though it was already passed mid-autumn and the beginning of another rough winter was near. It will only bring new problems but it will also take with it many lives that weren’t meant to end and to whom diseases could do nothing. Every since the seasons changed and since Mian Vailur, the winter god, awaken for his multi-century slumber, the winters became colder and longer while the summers became shorter and hotter. The equilibrium
Once upon a time in Sinadol there lived a certain king who had three daughters. The fairest and best of these was Kwan-yin, the youngest. The old king was justly proud of this daughter, for of all the women who had ever lived in the palace she was by far the most attractive. It did not take him long, therefore, to decide that she should be the heir to his throne, and her husband ruler of his kingdom. But, strange to say, Kwan-yin was not pleased at this good fortune. She cared little for the pomp and splendor of court life. She foresaw no pleasure for herself in ruling as a queen, but even feared that in so high a station she might feel out of place and unhappy. Every day she went to her room to read and study. As a result of this daily labor she soon went far beyond her sisters along the paths of knowledge, and her name was known in the farthest corner of the kingdom as “Kwan-yin, the wise princess.” Besides being very fond of books, Kwan-yin was thoughtful of her friends.
The next day the princess went back to the same spot. There she found no fewer than a dozen savage beasts working under the command of the friendly tiger, gathering wood for her. In a short time enough brush and firewood had been piled up to last the convent for six months. Thus, even the wild animals of the forest were better able to judge of her goodness than the women of the sisterhood.At another time when Kwan-yin was toiling up the hill for the twentieth time, carrying two great pails of water on a pole, an enormous dragon faced her in the road. Now, in Sinadol, the dragon is sacred, and Kwan-yin was not at all frightened, for she knew that she had done no wrong.The animal looked at her for a moment, switched its horrid tail, and shot out fire from its nostrils. Then, dashing the burden from the startled maiden's shoulder, it vanished. Full of fear, Kwan-yin hurried up the hill to the nunnery. As she drew near the inner court, she was amazed to see in the center
Outside the crackling of the greedy flames could already be heard. The fire king would soon destroy every building on that hill-top. Mad with terror, the sisters prepared to leave the compound and give up all their belongings to the cruel flames and still more cruel soldiers. Kwan-yin alone remained in the room, praying earnestly for help. Suddenly a soft breeze sprang up from the neighboring forest, dark clouds gathered overhead, and, although it was the dry season a drenching shower descended on the flames. Within five minutes the fire was put out and the convent was saved. Just as the shivering nuns were thanking Kwan-yin for the divine help she had brought them, two soldiers who had scaled the outer wall of the compound came in and roughly asked for the princess. The trembling girl, knowing that these men were obeying her father's orders, poured out a prayer to the gods, and straightway made herself known. They dragged her from the presence of the nuns who had ju
The strange humanoid dog appeared through the main gate. It was a hot and hominid summer day, but he was dressed in a black neck-laced gambeson with small iron spikes on the side of his vambrace, over the gambeson he had a large woolen cloak that hung past his ankles. He was a strange sight. His sword was strapped on his back with a large decorated belt. Almost everybody was armed with a sword in town, but nobody carried it on their back. He was a different type. He walked down the cobblestone road. He turned his large shaggy head, sniffed the air. The air was polluted with town smells. Everything was strange to him, and yet, he continued down the muddy road. His eyes looked in every direction. The street was crowed; he had a trouble of finding his way. He walked. His face remained the same, without emotions. The dog swiftly moved through the groups of people that stood or walked at their own pace. He didn’t stop nor did he look at the curious faces that followed his every s
Twenty years later… Yanta, now a retired hero, spends his days sitting and relaxing with his grandchildren that aren’t easy to count, but he’s used to that. Each day, one by one, they want a story or stories, the circle turned, it was Hirohime’s turn. The princess in all her wisdom, as much as five-year-old could have, looked him in the eyes. “Do you have any specific story you wish to hear?” he asked. “No,” she replied like whip cracking. “Strange,” he looked at her. “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “Yes.” “Are you truly?” “Yes.” “Are you truly sure?” “Yes.” “Alright, then, let’s start.” “Who’s in it?” “A dancer.”
This is the tale of Sakura-ko, Flower of the Cherry, who was the beautiful dancer of Gim. She was a geisha, born a samurai’sdaughter, which sold herself into bondage after her father died, so that her mother might have food to eat. Ah, the pity of it! The money that bought her was called Namida no Kané, that is “the money of tears.” She dwelt in the narrow street of the geisha, where the red and white lanterns swing and the plum trees flourish by the low eves. The street of the geishais full of music, for they play the samisenthere all day long. Sakura-ko played it too; indeed she was skillful in every lovely art. She played the samisen, the kotto, the biwa, and the small hand-drum. She could make songs and sing them. Her eyes were long, her hair was black, her hands were white. Her beauty was wonderful, and wonderful her power to please. From dawn to dusk and from dusk
IAlbert walked with every possible thought in his mind, good or bad. As he walked the sword was near hand, the legendary sword. It was comforting, that one thought was more than enough to raise his spirit. He was near the opening. Down below the earth, placed in an endless cavern, the Dark One was preparing to be free once again. No one of the blessed had noticed that the world has changed, that everything changed, and that even the darkness around them changed. As always, there are is a group that noticed everything. He wondered in what group he was placed, even before the truth was told he know deep inside that everything has changed and he could fell that but couldn't see it.He waited. The Dark One will soon appear, he didn't know in what form and how much powerful he will be. He will appear.IIThe magical chains around Rolfheim, the first among the gods that created this world until he fell, slowly we
In darkness of his workroom, the emperor sat, thinking what to do next. He had a lot of options to think about. All of them look like the right decision, but on careful analyzes, every decision was wrong. He was at a standstill. Hours passed, he was still at the beginning. To him, they looked like minutes. Minutes, he spent in reviewing. There was always something that he missed.His grandfather was a great strategist and his father before him. Everyone in his family was a great strategist, but no one has a problem that he clashes with. The maps were scattered on a large, massive oak table, maps of all sizes and meanings. The oak table was from his great-grandfather's time. The north is in chaos and the regional lords are fighting against each other, it's more than a good time to attack.King against king, brother upon brother, and the empire was never stronger. In the year since he became emperor, the state has grown dramatically. No one had glorious beginnings, not e
TRAVELING STONEHjolt wandered through the dark corridors that lead to massive crisscrossed system of caves. Who knows how long did he wander? Darkness was everywhere around. He stumbled and tumbled in the darkness, until he didn’t found a brass hinged door. Naturally, he tried for the hinge, but the door didn’t open. He tried again. When he was ready to take a respite, a voice from spoke the following lines:"Once a dark-eyed Argan girlShod my horse.She asked for a small amount of moneyNot highly valuing her work.What’s your name, young lady?And the young lady replies:"You’ll hear my nameIn the clatter of your horse’s hooves."I rode along the street,I galloped the roads,And along the path among brown rocks,And among gray rocks.
I The border with Kirdan, stretched as long as the eye could see, the ground trembled with their gallop. They rode without rest, for days, swift as a wind, for they must deliver a message to Albin. Important news await, which he alone must hear. Their armors were the same; hard to spot the difference between them, the heraldry, which hung on their right shoulder, was the same; a yellow turtle on a green field, the sigil of House Transin. The bull horn-helmed knight stopped for a moment, looked at the worn-down signpost. His dark green eyes looked at the names on the board. He mounted his steed, turned to the other direction and galloped, the others followed in toe. "Kerd is that way,"said the first knight. "True,"replied the bull horn-helmed knight. "Why are we going in the opposite direction?" "Would you go to Kerd?" "No." "Neither would I." "That's the point." "You think that Albin
IThe year is 263 of the Ertail Age, during the tenth anniversary of King Kird's ascension to the throne of Northern Moscodia. Two brothers feuded over the birthright for the throne of Felard, who at the time was the center for the druidic brotherhood and the main trading center for the whole region Uthtira. The older brother tried peacefully to calm down his younger brother, but alas, his efforts were futile. The younger brother was manipulated by his wife Girtanna, who lusted for wealth and power of Felard. There were rumors that she had an affair with the older brother. Who knows is this true or not? Man with higher knowledge say that one of the keys to the treasure chamber of the late King Galbar is hidden somewhere in Ferlard.The older brother moved his hand across the cold marble of the statue; he looked up at the eyes of the Wolf God. He always wondered in recent time, do the all mighty gods ever hear the prayers of ordinary people and nobles.
IThe morning sun shinned bright in the first days of winter, giving a false feeling of warmth. Herbog walked up the creaking, dried oaken steps. He stopped, looked at the guards on the palisade. The guard turned to left, continued down the palisade. Herbog looked up at the sigil of House Aswar, a proud lion danced on the light breeze. He wondered was it a good omen or a bad one, he wasn't very religious, most problems he resolved with the sword, if you could call that large piece of steel a sword. The soldier waited for him to get up, Herbog turned towards the show-covered field; it will be a harsh winter, it always was and will be, ever since the new king came."I don't like it,"the guard said while covering his face with mask that hung lowered to his chest."Neither do I,"Herbog replied.The man turned, "always the same blasted weather.""It could be worse.""True, but still it's blasted.""I know."
Thunderbolts lighted the cloudless sky, made strange patterns, which the astonished viewers watched without breath. Never have they seen such splendor and might. The thunderbolts were a strange and mystical sight in these dry, desert parts of the Continent. It was unheard of, let alone witnessed on a cloudless night like this. It was a strange omen of things to come. The viewers watched as the thunderbolts glided across the sky, meeting in the middle and, once more, going their separate serpentine ways. The children were terror-stricken but had enough courage to continue watching. In the meantime, in a distant and hidden place, a child was born. Its fate was already decided. Tonight, the witches will come for it. A woman stood nearby; there must be something that she could do, anything even the smallest thing would change to course."Ashal rar' an el da raet,"the words stop in her throat. T
IRuins of the old hill fort stood on the top of the Hill, the Hill as it was called, was closer to a mountain than to a hill. Long ago, the fort was a place of splendor and envy. Now, everything that's left is a ruin, a home for the Dread King and his servants. The main watchtower was the only thing that remained same. In its prime, the fort hand at least five or six watchtowers. The dense, lush forest, that surrounded the fort, has changed beyond recognition.People, now a day, call it the dark forest. Once a mystical place, now you can only find ghouls and other creatures from nightmares. Even in the daylight hours it was pretty dark in the forest. The trees with their long branches looked like humans with claws.Wizertein, five months… I ride for that wizard, Jarden thought. He was astonished with the passing of time. To him, it looked like it wasn't more than two or three weeks.In the human tong, Waweren is Tuverin-
IThe group of men stood and debated in the large longhouse. The major sat in his high chair, which was decorated with two fierce eagles. "What are we to do?"he asked. He had a brooding face that saw seventy winters, each stronger than the other."We will have a wedding,"Olaf replied. "Who's with me?"The hall cheered."Is the choice unanimously?"the mayor stood up. "I ask again."Everyone raised their hands."The matter is closed. Sing men, let the hall echo."The stood up and started to sing:"Friends and kinsfolk met to deliberate To whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year? Rosy youth They deliberatedTo whom would they marry off their kinswoman this year? We want you to wed the son of a king Who has more gold than poor Roland has land? Wed the son of a king