Be it falling houses
Or kids in a cage
Witchocide is increasing
A fantasy outrage
Cannot an antagonist
Get a fair break
Why must the “hero”
The victory take?
Padre
Of Falling Houses
Fantasy
Enterprise
It was a rather simple enterprise, actually. Bjorn having barely survived his last adventure, concluded that there had to be a better way of making a living than traipsing through dungeons. He then had the brilliant idea of setting up adventures for others. He went to the last site and carefully mapped it. He then sold the quest map to others. How could it be his fault that someone had robbed it already?
Padre
Garn
Garn was said to be a man without equal. He was tall and muscular, as well as ruggedly handsome. He was in most every way a symbol of his nation. He, himself, saw such talk as worthless, however, for Garn was a man of action and not words.
As he strode down the corridors of the palace, the various guards and attendants smarted themselves in his presence. Reaching the throne room he waited for not introduction or summons, but walked right in. He stopped and gave a courteous nod to the king; no bow or bent knee, for such was not in Garn’s character.
“Ah, Captain Garn,” the king said. “It is good of you to come on such short notice.”
“Always at your disposal, Majesty,” the hero replied.
“I have a matter of the utmost sensitivity for you. There seems to have been an incursion on the northwest border.”
“What is sensitive in that, I can deal with it straight away, and make an example of the Helians.”
“”Well, that’s just the thing,” the king said clearing his throat. “It seems it is we who have crossed the border, and now the officer who crossed over is trapped alongside thirty of his men. I am afraid that I will need your special skill-set to find them and lead them back to this side of the frontier without alerting the Helians to your, or their presence beyond the border.”
“Can we not deal with this diplomatically, and state is was a foolish act of a minor officer?”
“Well, here again it’s a bit tricky,” the king said. “The officer in question is Prince Talbo.”
“I see,” the hero said with no attempt to disguise his distaste for the situation. “I will leave immediately.”
“I knew I could count on you,” the monarch said with a weak smile.
“Always, Majesty.”
Padre
The Warning
Hugh Carter stood at the door of the tavern. He was thirsty and road-weary and scanned the packed room for any sign of a seat. It was then that he spied a small table in a far corner. He maneuvered himself through the throng and slid into one of the three vacant seats and set his travelling bag in one of the others. He then slung his cloak on the back of the chair he was sitting in before making his way to the bar and ordering a pint and a pie.
When he returned to the table he saw a neatly folded piece of paper tucked into the wicker back of the chair opposite. He leaned over and retrieved it and opened it to see what it might be.
It read, My friend, if you are reading this, you are in grave danger. As I would would not wish any misfortune to befall you, please move to the far side of the tavern. I trust you will be thankful for this warning.
Hugh looked around but no one seemed to be taking any particular notice of him, but he did get an uneasy feeling from a large cloaked man two tables over. Taking a wide berth of the man he gathered his drink and belongings and went and stood near the bar. As soon as he made the move, three rather weedy-looking youths sped to the now vacant table. A particularly spotty lad with bad teeth gave him a wave and shouted, “Thanks mate.”
Padre
The Bard: A Song
Ren wiped the sweat from his face and looked at the mountain road before him. So far, he thought to himself. Too far. He had been on this road for three days and in all that time he had yet to meet anyone. He examined the path and it was easy to see that grass had begun to reclaim part of the roadway. Oh, well. Not going to get there standing here, he mused.
He had left home a year before, and tried his hand at various occupations. His slender build, however, didn’t really suit the labouring jobs he tried at first. He then landed a position in a tavern. The hours were long, but he enjoyed the work. He in fact became a rather skilled barman. This too was short-lived, a fire in the wee hours had destroyed not only his place of employment, but nearly killed him as well.
As he took to the road again he began to hum to himself. Soon, he was belting out some of the songs of heroism he had heard in the tavern. One particular tune that he particularly liked had several lines that he didn’t understand. Despite this, there was something about the words that lifted his spirit and made him feel invincible.
He got caught up in the song and let his travel become automatic. Because of this he failed to notice the bugbear at the mouth of a grotto he was passing until her was nearly on top of it. When he did see it he was shocked to see the creature transfixed at his voice. He tried to decide whether he should flee or to proceed. Go on, he thought to himself. He took a few more steps and continued to sing. It was then that he got to the mysterious words. As he rang them out, the beast covered its ears and fled into the cave.
Surprised at his luck, but not wanting to take any chances, Ren repeated the same verse for the next thirty minutes. Then hoarse and a bit shaken he finally rested. “I have to find out what that song is about,” he said to himself.
Padre
Where Dragons Fly
Where dragons soar and great worms fly
Dark silhouettes in a dangerous sky
It is there you must seek
A treasure great beneath the peak
It is a task for those skilled, bold, and brave
But be warned, for the foolhardy there awaits an early grave
Padre
A Party Split
They split the party
Went separate ways
And thus were weaker
In subsequent frays
Warriors without a healer
A mage without support
A bard with no audience
And things of that sort
And what did they learn
From this error so basic?
It makes for a good novel
But not for the game in your basement
Padre
Errand
It wasn’t the most comfortable camp, but it seemed secure. Fallen timber framed the space on three sides and there was considerable concealment by a pinewood thicket on the fourth. A fire, however, was out of the question as it would negate the tree cover.
The day had started well with light-hearted chatter as the companions took to the road. Noon found them having a light meal by a brook side and it looked as if the journey was going to be an easy one.
It wasn’t long after lunch, however, that they found the road blocked my an inexplicably fallen tree. As they tried to work their way around it they were beset by bandits. The party gave as well as they took, but were in the end forced to make a fighting withdrawal into the surrounding woodland. That is how they came to be in this small enclosure.
“That’s the last time I ever let you talk me into a side quest,” Theos the Cleric said to Balwyn.
“How could I have known bandits would be after the artefact we were asked to deliver?”
“What is it that we are carrying anyway?” Tristen the Archer asked.
“Let me take a peek,” Balwyn said, opening the cloth sack.
“Well?” Theos prompted.
“It’s just an old hammer.”
“Hammer? Is it a war-hammer or magic?”
“No, just a worn-out old hammer. Oh, wait a minute. Ah, the hammer is wrapped in a wadge of wanted posters of guess who.”
“So do you think they just want to stop people from finding out about the reward?” Tristen asked.
“I imagine so,” Balwyn said. “Let’s give this a miss,” he suggested tossing the fabled Hammer of All Creativity into the underbrush.
Padre
The Littlest Fisher (Part 4)
Danshe went to her usual spot the next morning and was surprised to find a large rowboat had washed up into her tidepool in the night. Though it was largely submerged it still had become a receptacle of a large amount of seawater and yet had enough freeboard remaining to trap over thirty meal-sized fish inside. There was no way the little girl could pull the boat to the ledge by herself, nor was it practical to extract the fish in its present position so she ran off to get the lighthouse men to help her.
A short while later the boat had been retrieved and there was enough food to see all of the islanders through for several days.
Danshe then ran to tell the redhead about the windfall. When she arrived on the porch however she found a note attached to the door. Dear Danshe, Thank you for restoring my faith in people again. You are a very special lady. Please accept this small gift to remember me by. All the best, Cealia. Next to the note was a silver chain with a starfish on it.
Danshe then noticed the redhead, that she now knew was called Cealia on the beach with four seals. The girl immediately started to run to see her. Her path led her over a couple of dunes, and while she was climbing the larger of these she momentarily lost sight of the lady. When she creased the dune the beach was empty, but she could see five seals swimming out into the open sea. As she watched she could swear that one of them turned back to her and waved a flipper before diving out of sight.
Danshe never saw Cealia again, and three days later the weather broke and a relief boat arrived on the island.
Padre
The Littlest Fisher (Part 3)
Before going to her fishing place, Danshe paid a visit to the redhead’s cottage. The pot was gone from the front porch, but there was no answer at the door either. As she stepped down onto the walk she noticed that the lady was down on the beach kneeling down next to a pair of seals. She seemed to be having a conversation with them. Though Danshe thought this was curious, she didn’t want to be rude and interrupt her so went to her fishing spot to begin her day’s work.
A short while later the lady appeared near her place. She was carrying the pot.
“Do you mind if I join you?” the redhead asked politely.
“Yes, you may,” the little girl relied.
“Thank you for the yummy stew,” the woman said as she settled down next to her. He then placed the pot between them.
“You’re welcome,”Danshe replied.
The girl seemed to have something on her mind.
“A penny for your thoughts,” the lady said.
Danshe looked a bit embarrassed and then asked, “Can you talk to animals?”
“What makes you ask that?” the woman responded.
“I saw you on the beach with the seals,” she said.
“You might say we are friends,” the redhead replied.
The girl again looked as if she had a question on her mind.
“Um, are” she began hesitantly. “Are you an angel?”
The woman gave a good natured chuckle. “No, I’m not one of the bright ones, but I do try my best to serve the Power-that-Is.”
The girl looked even more embarrassed, and while fascinated, decided not to ask any other questions.
The two sat quietly for a short while, and then Danshe got a bite despite the turbulence of the water.
It proved to be a very big bass, one large enough to feed her and her family. Once she landed it she began to pack away her things. “Thank you sea,” she then said aloud.
“Is that all you are going to catch today?” the lady asked.
“I never take more than I can use,” the girl replied.
The lady smiled at that. “Most people are greedy,” the woman observed.
“But that would be wasteful of blessings,” Danshe responded, as if she had never thought of taking extra.
“Some people say that the greed of people is why the storms have come, and why the sea is acting strangely,” the redhead relied.
“That would be awful if it’s so,” Danshe said thoughtfully. A lot of people could go hungry. In fact, I wish I could feed everyone on the island, but I don’s know how much would be enough.”
“I am sure your present way of doing things is exactly right,” the woman said with a wink. She then got up, “Thank you again for the stew.” With that she departed.
Padre
Padre's Ramblings 