User:Gabeth

"The High Forest," the bard said to his companion, who was considerably younger than he was. "I've yet to be told why we are here, Taladrian." The bard ran a hand through salt and pepper hair that framed an aristocratic and handsome face that had proved to be a too-strong temptation to many a fair maiden. He was known to the Realms as Curtis of the Faint Song, apt to use his haunting voice to bring tears to the stoutest dwarf. "I have little need for a treant to step on me or a drow to do me the kindness of disemboweling me."

If Curtis was handsome, he was no match with the young man called Taladrian, who seemed to be truly blessed by Sune. Unlike the clergy and worshippers of Lady Firehair though, Taladrian cared little about his appearance. His golden hair ran freely down his back, the random tangle ruining its appearance of spun gold threads. The look in his piercing green eyes was a mixture of amusement and annoyance at his tutor and companion. "I was called here," the young wizard said softly, his hand resting on the long hilt of the sword that rested at his hip. Long, articulate fingers tightened around the hilt as his eyes slid back to the edge of the old growth forest.

"Could you be any less vague," Curtis said, obviously annoyed himself, "Or would you care to add the words, 'But I don't know why.'" The bard's attempt at sarcasm was lost on Talandrian, who seemed quite completely absorbed by the idea of entering the shadows beneath the trees. Curtis decided to change tactics; if sarcasm didn't work, maybe advice would. "You know, perhaps we should scout a bit first. It wouldn't do to stumble on the wrong group within the forest."

"It doesn't matter," Talandrian said softly just as tall figures appeared from the shadows along the forest. "Our guides have just arrived."

Guides indeed, Curtis thought as his throat tightened. The shadowy figures resolved into four tall and gangly forest trolls, all wearing rusty and moldy armor from a dozen separate sources, all of which probably were long ago shat out by the dirty, smelly bastards. Just as Curtis tried to offer a witticism, Taladrian unsheathed his sword, whispering an encantation as he did so. He paused just long enough to look over to his mentor and say, "I suggest you prepare yourself."

Taladrian launched himself forward, the fine blade of his sword shimmering incandescently for a moment before flames flared to life along its length. He smiled broadly as he did so, feeling alive for the first time in weeks. Battle was in his blood, just as it was when he wore the armor of a mercenary captain.

Curtis grinned to himself as he pulled his own sword free. While it carried a minor enchantment to cut flesh more easily, it lacked the flames that would prevent the trolls growning from the tiny chunks of flesh they would soon become. However, he had the curious ability to use magic, which changed things considerably. When Curtis of the Faint Song shouted, you either covered your ears or spontaneously combusted.

More to come...