A Scribes Tale

A Scribes Tale

Sometimes I wonder how I get myself into these situations. The last time I was almost sure my lifeless body would be lying on a burning pedestal, with the few friends I have staring on in sadness. I can stop wondering though - I asked to be here. It's quiet right now, only the sound of the wolves in the distance and the chuckling laughter coming from the group as they drink themselves into numbness by the fire before they turn in for the night. I hope they plan to end soon - we are to wake early so that we may gain entry to the Keep by dawn.

They are an odd sort of adventurers. Their self appointed leader, Pheneis, is a legend in his own time. He is also the only reason I agreed to accompany this party as their scribe. He is an amazing, yet arrogant, fighter. I have heard many songs written by bards in his honor. I feel that I will be safer on this adventure than in the past, mainly because he agreed to help protect me (which he only agreed to if I give him due credit in my writings).

There are five other members in this party. Each of them brings their own special flair. One is named Leon, a short, stocky little dwarf. Very handy with a battleaxe, but calling him rude would be an understatement.

The second member is Galidar, a remarkable archer. He is a half-elf (his father was a human that fell in love with a beautiful elf from High Elm), and nobody seems to like him much, but they seem to respect his ability a great deal.

Thirdly we have Maewyn; beautiful in her own rights, but I would never make her mad if I wanted to remain in this life. She is a talented mage with a short temper. Before leaving the town of Dandale I saw her turn an elf the deepest shade of purple simply because he made fun of her for doing tricks to entertain some of the town children. He felt this was a waste of her talents. Since dark elves are not allowed within the city, she felt the reactions that he received after her little color trick was plenty of entertainment for the children for about an hour until she finally dispelled her magic upon him. Now, none of these three are much heard of, but the forth is another story.

He goes by the name of Argon, but I believe that he may be an accomplished assassin and thief known by the name of Dalamar. He fits the description perfectly, and seems to have his trademark fighting style. I won't be mentioning this in by writings for fear of my own life. From what I know, he only performs assassinations of those that he feels deserves it, and only for a handsome purse, but I don't want to take any chances.

The fifth member would be I. My name is Mircar. I can fight, but don't consider myself a fighter. I'm not that accomplished. I love to write about my adventures though. I have enjoyed following and fighting with different parties for more years than I care to say, and I regret this may be my last. I have been given other opportunities at the Lord's manor in Dandale, but wanted to follow along on this last trip to set my mind at ease. You see, I have not convinced myself if I want to stay idle for my few remaining years.

The party has finally turned in for the evening, and I have agreed to take first watch. We each take our turns throughout the night, ensuring the fire stays lit and no hungry creatures or resentful people' approach trying to put an end to our campaign. We are less than a mile away from the Keep and our reasons for being here might have reached our intended targets.

We signed up for this campaign to put an end to the havoc that has been brought upon the townsfolk of Dandale. There is a mage that goes by the name of Zarel. He has sent his goblin followers to the town twice a week for ninety days now, raiding the food supply, which is now sadly inadequate. He began doing this after he was banished for threatening the life of Lord Xanmar. Few people know what he looks like because he always keeps his face down and hidden behind the hood of his cloak. We only know that he is young in appearance, but not to be underestimated in his abilities as a sorcerer.

Almost dawn now and I have just waked so I check my personal belongings before I begin to prepare for the short walk ahead. It would be unwise to go into battle without my essentials. I also do not know everyone here very well, and do not trust them to stay out of my writings and pockets while I sleep. I don't carry much coin on me, but a thief is a thief and I doubt they care if I am poor or not.

As we approach the Keep, we can hear movement but see no one (or thing) around. The Keep is crumbling from inadequate use over the years. I remember the tale of it being destroyed by a red dragon after it's Lord slayed its mother while on a quest to retrieve a special gem that was swallowed when she ate the person that was wearing it. We creep around to what looks to be the main entrance. What used to be a heavy wooden gate is now blackened stumps and ash. "Quiet", Pheneis says, "goblins might not be the smartest creatures, but they aren't deaf". Silently we walk, staying close to the rock walls when possible; we begin working our way through a maze of ruins.

I observe Galidar slowly reaching into his quiver to retrieve an arrow, and without warning, I can hear the sound of wind being cut by a knife as his arrow flies threw the air and stopping only as it enters the chest of a goblin. "Run"! He yells. Trying not to be separated, we sprint threw the ruins as if we had done it a hundred times. "There're everywhere," shouted Leon. Argon screams for Leon to try and keep up. Maewyn, who prefers to stay towards the back (as most mages do), wields her magic to create a spider-web as big as the passageway behind us. "It will take them half of an hour to burn threw that web, and even longer if they try to cut it" she says.

"Maewyn, can you light this place up for us?" I ask. No sooner than the words came out of my mouth, a magnificent glow surrounded us. "Over there", Argon began uneasily, "if we go down those stairs Maewyn can seal the entrance so that the goblins outdoors won't be able to get threw." Pheneis worriedly replies "How do you know that Zarel will be down here?" In an instant Maewyn's soft voice replies, "The upper portion of the Keep is open to the elements. I doubt that a mage of his caliber would have his scrolls and potions exposed to the weather. I would have my books and components down here if I were him."

As we descend the damp, musty steps, we can hear the crackling