Okay, so just a few notes of acknowledgement first. I like to dabble with all sorts of writing, and occasionally will try to put certain events from my weekly tabletop RPG games into novel form. Mostly for myself, though sometimes for the enjoyment of the people who inspired the writing. What follows is one such tidbit. The other acknowledgement is that proper names that pop up aren't all mine. The locations are taken from an RPG called Pathfinder. With that out of the way, read on, and enjoy


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A chill wind rushed down the Lost Coast Road as the sun rose over the land of Varisia. The winter season was not yet truly upon the land, but autumn seemed ready to turn itself over with the next gust of wind. As the sun’s rays fell upon the road, it illuminated a pair of travelers walking casually but purposefully, and headed north. A man and a woman, both tall and physically well built, but there the similarities ended. Most obvious was the fact that the woman, who was barely a hand shorter than the man, was descended of mixed lineages, namely that of human and orc. Her head was shorn clean and her light green skin, almost a beacon of spring itself, shone slightly from the light coating of sweat she was already building from a hard march. Her garb and equipment clearly labeled her a warrior. The armor she wore seemed a patchwork of opportunity, the bulk of it being treated rawhide, while the rest appeared to have been constructed or repaired with whatever had been at hand. Patches of boiled leather, plates of steel and even bands of linked chain held the suit together in a manner that defied belief. However bizarre the half-orc’s armor though, the massive two-handed sword she carried upon her back headed off most comments or queries of any sort as to the armor’s less than impressive appearance.

Reaching the top of a rise in the road, she slowed her pace and turned back towards her companion who had begun to fall behind, again. In contrast to the half-orc, her human companion was almost antithesis itself. Where she was brute and raw, he was lean and almost refined in nature. His dark black hair was cut short, and thus moved little as the wind rushed by them. He wore not armor, but a colorful cacophony of clothes. A bright green vest held a flowing white shirt firmly in place, while dark pants hugged his muscular legs before billowing out just above his boots. And also unlike his companion, the man carried little in the way of gear and equipment. A simple sword hung at his waist, along with two simple leather pouches and a coin purse. In his hands however, he carried a magnificently crafted lute. Its body crafted of a deep red wood, with fine golden filigreed scrollwork twisting and twining upon the lute’s face, and polished ivory frets lining the instrument’s wide neck. As he sauntered past his now glaring companion, he simply ignored her disdainful gaze and upturned lip and continued on, occasionally plucking at a string or two and humming to himself.

Falling in step behind the lollygagging bard, the orc women began grumbling to herself. When her companion continued plucking away obliviously, she finally huffed loudly. Reaching out with her hand, she shoved the man in the middle of his back, finally bringing both plucking and humming to a stop. The man didn’t stop moving, but he did glance over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Seera dear, was there something you wanted to say? Or perhaps this is your method expressing your appreciation of my impressive skill?”

Seera huffed again, this time even louder, though a smirk did creep in at one corner of her mouth.

“Actually I was just standing here, wondering to myself, just how much quicker I would get to Sandpoint if I were to throw the annoying bard over my shoulder.”

The bard actually threw his head back and laughed at the remark, and turned to face Seera, though he continued to walk backwards as spoke. With an embellished flair, he struck a heavy chord on his lute.

“I believe you meant to say ‘throw that wondrously talented bard, Kole the Entertaining’ over your shoulder. But semantics aside, why the rush? We’re making perfect time.”

Seera shook her head as Kole turned back to face where he was going. The previous evening, at his behest, they had bedded down early to spend the night at the edge of the Whisperwood. A thin and scraggly collection of trees than ran for a few miles, that only barely qualified for the name of forest. As they had bedded down even before the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, she had voiced her point to Kole. After all, they had covered almost ninety miles over the last four days in their hard press north, so what were a few more miles and a slightly longer day. He had proceeded to explain to her that while one never wanted to arrive too late to a party, neither did one wish to arrive too early. And one definitely did not want to show up in a foreign place after sundown. Even thinking about it now, Seera couldn’t see any sense in his ramblings. In her experience, showing up much earlier or later than you were expected tended to put you in the position of control, able to call the moves that served you best. And arriving under the cover of darkness merely enhanced the edge you gained. However, seeing as she had been invited along to a total of zero social gatherings in her lifetime that didn’t involve brawling on purpose, Seera had little ground to compare to Kole’s experiences. And considering that she had merely been hired to escort him to Sandpoint and then back to Magnimar, she saw no real need to start trying to understand his brand of babble.

“All I’m saying, is if we want to get our hides to Sandpoint sometime today, we should start moving like we mean to. All this lingering about is pointless, and leaves us out in the open more than I like.”

Kole playfully loosed a greatly exaggerated sigh as he returned his lute to its hard case that was strapped across his back and shoulders. In its place, he pulled four small colored balls from a belt pouch, and began to slowly toss them about in wide circle in front of him.

“Seera, Seera, Seera. If only we had more time, I’m sure we could turn even you into a proper lady.” Seera snorted loudly once again at this remark, though Kole continued on unabated. “However, since we only have a few miles to go, and I am by far not a miracle worker, I will explain as best I can. We wish to arrive at the Swallowtail Festival just as it is beginning. Any earlier, and we look like vultures waiting to feed off their good fortunes. If we show up too late, then the festival is well under way, and any other entertainers that have come as well will be able to establish themselves unchallenged by my incomparable skill.”

All the while he was explaining this, Kole never once stopped his juggling, which by itself had not been enough to impress Seera. However, she did c**k an eyebrow as Kole had begun changing the pattern that was created by the whirling colored balls, seemingly without doing anything different with his hands. The simple circle had grown larger and smaller, but then the balls had begun crossing in mid-air. Then they separated into two circles, at which point Seera realized that Kole had produced two more balls from somewhere, and had seamlessly inserted them into his juggling. If she wasn’t so currently annoyed with him, she might have actually paid him a slight compliment. Instead, she just grunted and turned to look over her shoulder.

When she did, she stopped for a moment, as a slight rising of dust in the distance caught her eye. She was about to alert Kole to its presence, when until she noticed a wagon cresting a rise. More merchants. They had passed by, and been passed up by, a number of merchant wagons since leaving Magnimar. Some on foot with simple carts, others with fully laden trade wagons. Kole had visited or entertained almost all of them, much to her annoyance. Having lived much of her life on the open road, or out in the wilds of the Cinderlands, mixing with large numbers of strangers was not a practice she was accustomed to. Judging by the dust cloud that was rising behind them now, the approaching wagon could only be the first of very many headed their way. Turning back, she caught up to Kole in just a few strides, as his pace had still not picked up any.

“Looks like a whole wave of road traffic coming up from Magnimar back there. I thought you said Sandpoint was a small town. Just how big is this festival supposed to be?”

Kole quickly tossed all eight of the balls that he was currently juggling high into the air, one after the other. Then once his hands were empty, he pulled open one of the pouches on his belt, and caught each ball in succession as it fell. Seeming quite satisfied with his performance, Kole dusted off his hands as he looked towards Seera.

“Oh it is plenty big my dear. I mean, this is the festival for autumn here in the Hinterlands. Especially if you are a farmer. The first harvests are starting to come up, and the days are running shorter. So really all that is left to do is to pray for a good harvest, a safe and short winter, and then stock up on every possible need you will have for the coming winter when trade slows down significantly. Hence all the merchants. So really, just like any festival across the land, the Swallowtail Festival is a time to buy, sell, and imbibe good drink.”

Kole reached into his instrument’s hard case again, and drew out his lute once more. This time, he set about picking at the strings in a more focused manner, tweaking and adjusting the pegs to pull or slack the strings into the proper tone. Seera rolled her eyes as she finally got tired of walking behind the man and pushed past him and took the lead.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be plunking on that damned thing all the way to Sandpoint.”

Kole grinned crookedly, even though Seera couldn’t see.

“The word you are looking for is plucking, my dear, not plunking.”

Seera sneered at the road before her, “Whatever.”

“And in fact I did say that, and as matter of fact, I have not bestowed upon you the beauty that is a musical performance by me except for when we stopped to camp.”

“What about every passing merchant or traveler that we’ve passed by in the last four days?”

Kole made a grandiose gesture of abashment, not that anyone was actually watching. “I would no sooner tell you when you could or could not hunt. Entertainment is my trade, and thus must be constantly practiced and plied. Though at any rate, there have not been passersby at every moment of our journey, and my lute has gone into its case on many an occasion. Therefore, I can not have been playing the whole way. Just some of it.” And with that, he continued with his tuning. Seera rolled her eyes and grumbled to herself as she stretched her stride to slightly increase the distance between her and Kole. She had no intention of being associated with his ongoing performances, and silently hoped that these approaching travelers would be in a hurry this morning.

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Far to the north, well past Sandpoint and its surrounding farmlands, the sun is rising on a ramshackle fortification along the Varisian coast. Its walls and surfaces a hodgepodge of scavenged wood and scraps of canvas, and barely held to together by rusted nails and rotten ropes. Below the fort, within hollowed chambers that are older than memory, a cloaked and hooded woman kneels before an altar of black obsidian. Long strands of silvery hair hang from the downturned hood, straight and still, not even belying the passing of breath. Massive stone doors on the opposite end of the room swung open slowly and silently. The two pairs of goblins pushing them open were much less quiet with their constant grunting and chattering, but the kneeling figure seemed to pay them no mind. Entering close on the heels of the goblins, so much so that one of his boots knocked the legs out from under one of the little green creatures, sending it face first into the door it had been opening.

The owner of the boot, undeterred and unconcerned by the stray goblin, strode steadily into the room. The man was slender with chiseled features and half pointed ears that belied some small amount of elven blood, though his sharp angled hawkish nose ensured that none would mistake him for an actual elf. His jet black hair was barely a hand span long, and was slicked back away from his face. His hair and well made leather overcoat shone in the dim light being given of by a number of braziers that hung around the walls that enclosed the raised altar area. He adjusted his cuffs in a nervous manner, mostly due to the statue of the goddess Lamashtu, Mother of Monsters, that stood beyond the altar. For the most part the statue depicted a beautifully nude, and very pregnant, human female. The rest of it though, was something out of nightmares.

Her arms were raised out to her sides, and each clawed hand held a wickedly carved kukri. The blade of each weapon wreathed in an eternal flame, the left one a perfectly normal color of orange and red. The right blade however flickered with a cold blue and white light. Below the knees the figure’s legs were scaly legs that ended in taloned bird-like feet, around which was curled a reptilian tail that sprouted from somewhere behind the creature. Most disturbing of all though was the head. A black jackal’s head, bearing three eyes, and a forked tongue snaking from its snarling maw. After deciding that he had waited long enough, the half-elf softly cleared his throat. The hooded figure’s head slowly rose, though the shadow of the hood was deep enough to show little more than the tip of a thin nose. A beautifully soft feminine voice emanated from within it to address the newcomer, though the kneeling figure remained facing towards the altar.

“Do you need something of me Lord Tsuto?”

The half-elf Tsuto allowed himself a wry smile. He very much enjoyed it when she addressed him so formally. Drawing himself up to give a quick and shallow bow, Tsuto addressed the shadowy woman.

“I come only to inform my Lady that the goblins are on their way, as I will be shortly. You shall have what you seek before the sun sets.”

The hooded woman rose to her feet, turning to face Tsuto. She allowed her hood to fall back ever so slightly, revealing a face of smooth pale skin, and soft features. The little light in the room still managed to make her eyes shine though, Tsuto noted, seeming to sparkle in shades of amethyst. The woman’s face slowly donned a grim smile as she stepped down towards him.

“Oh Tsuto, you out of all know that this is just the beginning.”

She paused as she came to stand before Tsuto, looking up into his eyes. Her smile widened as she looked up at him.

“But it will at least be the beginning of the end. Go now. And be quick about it. We are so very close now.”

Tsuto curtly nodded and then spun on his heels and marched out the door. The mysterious woman just stood and watched him go, the smile never leaving her face.

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The sun was halfway to its peak by the time Seera led a capering Kole the Astounding towards a bridge that led into the small town of Sandpoint. Over the past hour or so, the road had gone from nearly deserted to thoroughly crowded. Farmers and merchants were trailing into an already crowded town full of artisans and laborers, and Seera was not liking any of it in the slightest. She had tried to tell Kole as much as the number of people had built, but Kole was now fully immersed in his element. He was singing songs, stringing stories, and most of all telling jokes. At the moment he was busy trying to out-juggle an entire group of gnome performers who were definitely giving him a run for his coin. Everyone, of every age, race, and gender that walked by seemed entirely enthralled at any rate. Seera decided that getting separated from the apparently distracted Kole would do neither of them any good, so she slowed her pace until once more she was following her travelling companion, allowing him to set their pace. A painfully slow one in her mind.