I was on my way to writing a story about a game where I play three different countries all with the same goal when I hit some problems that I still haven’t overcome. So in the meantime I’ve decided to do one on a game I played several weeks ago. The goal is to form an alliance with specific countries in mind and have them all in the alliance at the same time. Now I know that’s more than enough to stir the blood and fire the imagination but I want you to take a deep breath and calm down. The style is whimsical, which I find easier to write than the more historic format of the three-country game that is fighting me right now. This story is a cross of IWD2 and EUII with a touch of Tolkien thrown in for spice.
Settings Normal-Normal.
Chapter One
A Bard’s tale.
The day had been especially harsh with a bitter cold wind bellowing from the north filled with small sharp hailstones that bit like stinging insects in a feeding frenzy on anyone who had been unfortunate enough to be caught outside earlier in the day. As the day wore on the wind died down but the temperature also fell until not only the snow on the ground had a crunch to it when you walked but even the air had taken on that same sharp snapping quality. Any man working outside that day soon found his mustache covered with a layer of ice resembling a frozen waterfall in a small stream.
The small town of Everhovel sat nestled in the middle of a wide valley surrounded by tall grim mountains, which were covered with a white mantle of snow and ice giving some of the more fanciful inhabitants in town visions of regal kings gazing down on their menial subjects. The inhabitants of this not so picturesque town were already settling in that late afternoon when a wandering Bard passed through the town’s main gate. The word of his arrival soon spread throughout the town. Now even though the town was somewhat small it still managed to boast of a dozen taverns that satisfied the thirsty needs of the working men of the town and close in farms. When the news got around that the Bard was returning from his travels a bidding war erupted among the taverns to see where he would go to weave his colorful stories.
Tobi the owner of the tavern called "The Three Legged Pony", won the bidding war and was busy getting the tavern ready for the first nights performance. The room was already half-filled that afternoon when he tapped another keg that he had just rolled behind the bar. He smiled and hummed a merry tune as he worked thinking of the money to be made from his thirsty customers that night. Thinking of money always brought a smile to Tobi's mouth and a twinkle to his eyes. A yell from the back of the room broke his revelry.
"Can’t we get some heat in this room Tobi? It’s bad enough that we have to pay for watered down ale but to have to freeze our nuts off at the same time is too much!"
Tobi looked to the far end of the dim room but couldn’t be sure who had yelled at him. He grumbled under his breath but lumbered toward the fireplace where he bent over and tossed another log onto the smoldering fire. The resulting explosion of ash and sparks caused him to lean away from the fire and swear.
"Damn waste of heat on these so called customers if you ask me. But then no one ever asks me do they?"
He wiped the sweat off his face and the back of his neck with a dirty damp rag and glanced at the loud patrons at the other end of the room. The lamps over head gave off little light so he had to rely on the light from the fire to see who was in the Tavern. He could see some of the regulars who always bought a single tankard of ale each night. Yes, sure enough there was Bladhock and Frannocok. They sat there at their tables with both of their rough meaty hands firmly placed on each side of their tankards nursing at it like they were sucking on the nipple of life itself and each sip was to be savored for as long as possible. But he also saw a few new faces and smiled at the thought of the people coming to hear the Bard’s stories that night and the thirst they would have. He hummed to himself as he stirred the fire one more time before turning and waddling back to the bar. People kept drifting in for the next hour and a steady order for ale and what passed for food kept Tobi busy. Finally just as the sun was winking at the town one last time from over the frozen mountaintops before disappearing until the next day’s dawn the door opened and there stood an old man wrapped in a long rainbow colored robe. Before anyone could yell for him to close the damn door he entered, turned, and slammed the door shut with a dramatic sweep of his arm.
Not only could he tell a tale with the best of them but also he knew how to make an entrance!
Settings Normal-Normal.
Chapter One
A Bard’s tale.
The day had been especially harsh with a bitter cold wind bellowing from the north filled with small sharp hailstones that bit like stinging insects in a feeding frenzy on anyone who had been unfortunate enough to be caught outside earlier in the day. As the day wore on the wind died down but the temperature also fell until not only the snow on the ground had a crunch to it when you walked but even the air had taken on that same sharp snapping quality. Any man working outside that day soon found his mustache covered with a layer of ice resembling a frozen waterfall in a small stream.
The small town of Everhovel sat nestled in the middle of a wide valley surrounded by tall grim mountains, which were covered with a white mantle of snow and ice giving some of the more fanciful inhabitants in town visions of regal kings gazing down on their menial subjects. The inhabitants of this not so picturesque town were already settling in that late afternoon when a wandering Bard passed through the town’s main gate. The word of his arrival soon spread throughout the town. Now even though the town was somewhat small it still managed to boast of a dozen taverns that satisfied the thirsty needs of the working men of the town and close in farms. When the news got around that the Bard was returning from his travels a bidding war erupted among the taverns to see where he would go to weave his colorful stories.
Tobi the owner of the tavern called "The Three Legged Pony", won the bidding war and was busy getting the tavern ready for the first nights performance. The room was already half-filled that afternoon when he tapped another keg that he had just rolled behind the bar. He smiled and hummed a merry tune as he worked thinking of the money to be made from his thirsty customers that night. Thinking of money always brought a smile to Tobi's mouth and a twinkle to his eyes. A yell from the back of the room broke his revelry.
"Can’t we get some heat in this room Tobi? It’s bad enough that we have to pay for watered down ale but to have to freeze our nuts off at the same time is too much!"
Tobi looked to the far end of the dim room but couldn’t be sure who had yelled at him. He grumbled under his breath but lumbered toward the fireplace where he bent over and tossed another log onto the smoldering fire. The resulting explosion of ash and sparks caused him to lean away from the fire and swear.
"Damn waste of heat on these so called customers if you ask me. But then no one ever asks me do they?"
He wiped the sweat off his face and the back of his neck with a dirty damp rag and glanced at the loud patrons at the other end of the room. The lamps over head gave off little light so he had to rely on the light from the fire to see who was in the Tavern. He could see some of the regulars who always bought a single tankard of ale each night. Yes, sure enough there was Bladhock and Frannocok. They sat there at their tables with both of their rough meaty hands firmly placed on each side of their tankards nursing at it like they were sucking on the nipple of life itself and each sip was to be savored for as long as possible. But he also saw a few new faces and smiled at the thought of the people coming to hear the Bard’s stories that night and the thirst they would have. He hummed to himself as he stirred the fire one more time before turning and waddling back to the bar. People kept drifting in for the next hour and a steady order for ale and what passed for food kept Tobi busy. Finally just as the sun was winking at the town one last time from over the frozen mountaintops before disappearing until the next day’s dawn the door opened and there stood an old man wrapped in a long rainbow colored robe. Before anyone could yell for him to close the damn door he entered, turned, and slammed the door shut with a dramatic sweep of his arm.
Not only could he tell a tale with the best of them but also he knew how to make an entrance!
