A Story

You want to hear a story? Well alright, I’ll tell you one. Our heroes find themselves on the outskirts of a small village. Weary from their travels and not expecting to find another town before nightfall they go to find an inn to sleep at.

“Eric, my good man, would you kindly secure us room and board for the night. Zaphiel do be sure to get your zombies some work during our stay, we are running a little low on funds and it is harvest season. Oh, and Clarence?” The scholarly gentleman organizing his fellows is a sphinx by the name of Neteon.

“Yes?” Clarence is a spindly looking Elf with fingers a fair bit longer and more flexible than those of his kin.

“Do try to stay out of trouble.” Neteon says with a straight face, completely devoid of humor.

“Bah, stop bullying the poor kid. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” The pretty faced faun is the man named Eric, praised far and wide for his ability to enthrall even a deaf man with his tales.

“He was imprisoned five times in the last big city we were in. once for stealing the magistrate’s jewels, and four more times for breaking out of jail.” The fourth man of this merry band is an angel by the name of Zaphiel. Looking at him it is easy to see that he was pretty once, but years of necrotic healing having taken its toll on his body, leaving him gaunt and shriveled.

“So? Who among us hasn’t been to jail at least once in the last year?” Eric replies to the necromancer, an incredulous air in his voice.

“I wasn’t done. He then somehow managed to get the most important tax collector in the city blamed for the whole thing. An innocent man is now rotting in jail because of that whole fiasco, during which you were too busy seducing some barmaid to pay attention.” Zaphiel continues with a deadpan voice.

“Innocent my ass, the man was stealing the taxes that should have rightfully gone to the people. And to make things worse he beat his slaves, and not in a sexy consensual way either, or even as a just punishment. Just regular old beatings for the sake of pain and misery.” Eric counters “And I wasn’t seducing any old barmaid, I stopped doing that years ago, I successfully seduced the magistrate’s wife, or daughter. It wasn’t clear which.”

“And then you will say ‘but he was innocent of the crime he was imprisoned for’. How do I know this? Is it because I know you guys so well? No, it’s because you two have had the same damned argument twenty times in the last week. Now, if you don’t want to be stuck out in the cold all night then find us a place to sleep with that pretty boy face of yours, Eric.” The last member of the party is a dwarf by the name of Garun. Like most Dwarves he has a neatly trimmed beard that goes down to his belly. Unlike most dwarves there is no fat anywhere on his lean body.

“Right, right. I’ll get too it. It’s a bit late so most places will be closed by now but I’ll see what I can do.” Eric replies before heading off towards the closest sign marked ‘inn’.

Half an hour later the party is sitting at a table of the common area of the Inn they booked for the night. There are about half a dozen other groups in the room in various stages of merrymaking. Most of the men and women in common area were Hobgoblins, though there was the occasional goblin running around.

With food, drink, and a place to sleep for the night acquired the party engaged in some merrymaking of their own. Everyone had a glass of one form of alcohol or another sitting in front of them.

“Ohh, looks like Clarence has the hots for one of the locals.” Eric noticing the, to him, obvious signs of infatuation starts encouraging the younger elf. “Come on man go for it, you got this.”

“Eashy for you to shay. You’re sho mush of pretty boy even men want to get with you.” Clarence, who isn’t holding his drink nearly as well as Eric, replies.

“Come on man, you can’t have learned nothing from me in the months we’ve known each other.” Eric counters. “Besides, it looks like she’s a bit more keen than you think.”

“Fine.” Fully trusting the much more promiscuous man’s experience with women Clarence makes his way over to the other table.

The rest of the party watches in earnest as Clarence introduces himself to the woman. They talk for a couple minutes before the woman brings the elf upstairs.

“Wow, you were right Eric, she really was interested in him. How do you do it?” Neteon asks the Faun.

“The same way you throw fire.” Eric replies.

“Years of study and a well developed intuition?” Neteon says.

“Exactly. Besides, the thing I said about her being interested in him was just bullshit I said to give him some confidence, which is all he needed really.” Eric says.

This gets a round of laughter from the party and leads to some more light hearted jesting. An hour or so later the party broke for the night.

The morning was met with hush whispers as a group of soldiers came through the town demanding money. The party watched from the window of a third floor room as a well dressed man, apparently the one in charge of the village, begged the soldiers. For what exactly the party did not yet know, but the man left, obviously distraught as he led the soldiers somewhere out of sight. An hour latter those same soldiers were escorting several carts filled with preserved food.

“Those are some ridiculous taxes. Not even the bandit princes of my homeland extorted that much out of a small village like this.” Zaphiel said incredulously.

“That has to be at least half of their harvest, probably everything they have harvested so far.” Garun says to no one in particular.

“In that case it should be easy to my zombies some work while we’re here, they’ll be desperate to get the rest out of the fields.” Zaphiel said before making his way towards the door of the room.

“Yeah, you do that. Meanwhile I’m going to figure out what exactly is going on.” Eric replies.

And so everyone heads out for the day to interact with the town and fulfil their own tasks. The farmers are very appreciative of the help Zaphiel was able to provide. The undead, while not intelligent creatures, are strong and have no need for rest. Meanwhile Eric has tracked down the mayor of the town.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the mayor’s house, it wasn’t hard to find the biggest building in town. The mayor invites Eric in for a hearty breakfast. While they are eating Eric gets a chance to ask about the events of that morning.

“So those soldiers from this morning, do they belong to the local lord?” Eric asks while dabbing his face with a cloth napkin.

“You saw that did you. I must admit, it was not my proudest moment.” The mayor, a rotund Hobgoblin, replies. “No, they belong to the king.”

“Ah, alright. Pretty small group for a king’s tax tax collectors, but that’s hardly out of the ordinary.” Eric muses allowed. “Tell me, does you king always expect such large taxes?”

“Not exactly. The old king died a couple months ago, since then taxes have gotten higher and higher each month, until it looks like what you saw this morning. The soldiers claim that it is to support a war effort, though I don’t know anything about that.” The mayor replies between bites of bread.

“Still, even for wartime taxes, it’s a bit excessive. I know an army runs on its stomach, but surely there are other villages to collect taxes from.” Eric says incredulously.

“There are others villages. But enough of that. You said you were in Canibrey city recently, right? How are things going back home.” The mayor says, keen on the answer.

“The magistrates right hand man was arrested while we were in town, apparently he stole some valuable jewels. It made all of the headlines in the city.” Eric tells the mayor.

That evening the party reconvened in their rented room. To discuss the events of the day.

“Sorry I’m late guys.” Clarence enters the room where everyone else was waiting. “It’s been a long day.”

“You smell like sex, were you with that woman all day?” Garun replied.

“That’s some impressive stamina. You’re a natural talent.” Eric says, obviously impressed.

“It was amazing, and, and, I don’t even know her name. You do that kind of thing all of the time?” Clarence asks Eric ecstatically.

“Sure, stick with us for a while and make sure to give the ladies a good time when they come knocking and they will come knocking.” Eric replies with confidence.

“Anyway, enough of that. Let’s get down to business. Eric, you talked to the mayor today, yes? How did that go?.” Neteon interrupts.

“It went well, the mayor is a kindly man and he invited me in for breakfast. During breakfast we talked about the event from this morning.” Eric then goes on to explain what he talked to the mayor about.

“Intriguing, looks like we know what we’re doing next then.” Zaphiel says.

“What, are we now planning a coup?” Clarence asks incredulously.

“No, not a coup, an uprising. Not our first either.” Garun offers.

“You’re serious. So all of those stories you’ve told me since I joined were true then?” Clarence asks in amazement.

“Of course, I’ve never made up a story before. Embellished a little, yes, but never any outright fantasy.” Eric explains. “As for why an uprising instead of a coup, it was obvious you were going to ask. With a coup all we are doing is taking one leader and replacing it with another, with an uprising we can do so much more.”

“Alright then, how do we do this?” Clarence asks.

“Go around to as many of the villages as we can and see about drafting some of their people into a militia. It would be really convenient if there was some kind of festival coming up where all the people meet up, I know they are common this time of year.” Neteon explains to the group.

“As a matter of fact there is a harvest festival happening in a month.” Zaphiel explains the information he learned during the day, farmers tend to be very appreciative of the assistance of Necromancers. “It’s being held within a day’s hike from here.” He hands out a map with the location marked.

“Excellent, that’s enough time to go to the other villages and let them see Eric’s ugly mug and listen to his tall tales of revolt and revolution.” Garun states.

“Even if we do manage to recruit a militia, how are they going to stand up against a professional army? It’s not like there are many master mages in farming villages.” Clarence asks his fellows.

“A couple ways. A bit of training doesn’t hurt, and it’s like it will be a fair fight anyway. Plus, you can’t underestimate the power of moral, a frenzied mob can strike fear into the hearts of even the most disciplined soldiers.” Zaphiel states.

“Ok, ok. Why are we doing this again? I get that an uprising lets up do more, but why stage an uprising at all?” Clarence asks

“Money” Garun states.

“Fame” Eric follows

“Power” Zaphiel says, deadpan.

“To shape the world in our image” Neteon says.

“One last question. How is overthrowing the local government supposed to help with the first three?” Clarence asks.

“Don’t underestimate the kind of influence you can wield when you put a new king on the throne. That type of connection isn’t something to laugh at.” Eric says.

“Alright, I’m sold. What do you need me to do?” Clarence asks expectantly.

“That’s the spirit. For now we plan.” Eric replies

“What is there to plan? We all know you are going to speak to the people while the rest of us gather more information. We simply don’t have enough information to create any more sophisticated plans, and that isn’t something that is going to change with us talking to each other.” Zaphiel states.

“He’s right, now unless someone else has something to add I am turning in for the night.” Garun says to the party.

With nothing left to be said the party breaks for the evening.

“And I think that’s a great place to stop for the night.” An adult forest sprite interrupts the storyteller.

“But mommy, daddy hasn’t finished his story.” A much younger sprite complains.

“You heard mommy, it’s off to bed for you. I can continue the story another time if you would like.” The storytelling faun replies.

“Promise?” The young sprite asks.

“Promise.” The storyteller confirms.

“Good night daddy.” The young sprite gives the faun a hug before letting him leave.

“Good night my little sapling.” The faun says in turn.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a shorter tale? Now she’s going to be all excited in the morning, impatient to hear the rest.” The older sprite says, exasperated as the couple heads to their own room.

“Would that really be such a bad thing, my dear? And besides, she’s heard all of my shorter tales, or at least the ones worth telling.” the storyteller replies.

“Couldn’t you have made one up then, my darling Eric? I know you have the knack for it.” The sprite asks as she climbs into bed.

“No, I never make up a story. Embellished a little, yes, but never any outright fantasy” The faun replies with an echo of his youth as he climbs in after his lover.

A moment passes before the sprite speaks up again. “Hey, Eric?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why me? You could have had any woman in the world, heck you could have had any man in the world. So why did you pick a simple forest sprite like myself in the end.” The sprite asks.

“Because, my dear, you are the single greatest thing to have ever happened to me. And if after all of those fantastic adventures this life is the reward at the end of the tunnel, then I would be satisfied.” And with that the two close their eyes and fall asleep.