Though normally raucous and loud, the tavern was nearly silent. Little could be heard beyond the clinking of dishes and the occasional whisper. The patrons' eyes were all glued to the man standing on a makeshift stage in the center of the room. Since so few travelers braved the dangerous roads to visit a village as small as this, a bard arriving was major news and those present waited for him to speak with bated breath. With a flourish of his brightly colored cloak and an elaborate bow the bard began to speak.

"Tonight, my dear friends, I will bring to you a tale of Dragons!” With that declaration he scanned the room. Satisfied with their reactions he began weaving his story.

"Dragons have been present throughout history, though it wasn't until recently that the extent became known. As master shape-shifters they can appear as any creature, though they do have a distinct form for each. Aside from never seeming to age, they are indistinguishable from a normal member of the species. Not even other dragons are able to see through their disguise."

"The event which came to be known as the Dragon Summit is where everything changed. Ostensibly the rulers of various city states came together to discuss the growing difficulties traveling between cities. Over the past few years the number of caravans reported lost or destroyed had been steadily increasing. The stories from the survivors were unreliable and rather far-fetched. Some spoke of swarms of monsters working together in ambush. Others spoke of spies and destruction from within the caravan itself. As several of the reports also mentioned giant winged beasts, most of those at the summit concluded that dragons were to blame."

"A small group of lords strongly disagreed with this conclusion, but their arguments weren't those of denial. They simply said that it was absurd for a dragon to waste their time attacking traders. A being of that strength could easily take what they want from any of the city states and would most likely use other methods than brute force. The only reason a dragon would do something like this, is if it had some insidious end game."

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"Many of the nobles there laughed at their arguments, insisting that these dragons were mindless beasts and that's when all hell broke loose. One of the nobles present approached the center of the room, and with a roar shifted to his dragon form. He promptly pinned a doubter to the floor and reiterated that dragons wouldn't act so foolishly without a good reason. The crowd was too shocked to panic, they froze in place and stared. While the crowd was frozen, several others revealed their true forms as well."

"This very nearly threw the room into panic, but fortunately my patron had the assistance of a master bard like myself to calm the crowd. With a psychic nod from him I started playing a song of peace which soothed all except for the most panicked."

As the bard paused expecting praise, a boisterous laugh could be heard across the room. A woodsman sitting in the corner shouted, "Hah! Were you really the bard there that day?"

"Aye friend, it was I who soothed the crowd and allowed the conference to continue."

With that the man rose and toasted his mug to the bard, sloshing ale everywhere. "A true bard! Boasting about the day his boss fired his ass!"

The bard attempted to sputter out a reply in protest, but the stranger’s voice overpowered his own.

"Aye, the bard sang, but the terror in his voice hardly soothed the room. The poor sod trapped by Lord Grax broke several ribs in his struggle. I had to stun at least a dozen who came too close to my charge." His voice trailed off as a petite woman tugged at the back of his jerkin.

The woman, who appeared to be barely more than a girl, wore a cloak over thin leather armor. She had a dagger sheathed on one hip and a longsword on her back. Compared to her small frame the sword seemed huge. She quietly whispered to the ranger "My Guide, please return to my side. Let the bard tell his lies, this doesn't help with our task"

The bard took the opportunity the distraction provided to inspect the man, he had assumed it was a random drunk, but now it was obviously not the case. The adventurer was garbed in jet black leather that seemed to shine like metal. The only material that could be was dragon hide. He wore an unstrung bow and thin, empty, quiver on his back. Aside from a wicked looking knife at his hip, he had no other weapons visible. He had heard tales of a man like this, many spoke of his short temper and fearsome skills. Deciding against provoking him, he deflected, seizing on the humor in the situation to change his tale from one of nobility to comedy in an attempt to salvage the night.