The Kindled Hearth was a warm, welcoming place, with fires burning behind the bar and next to the performance stage, keeping the cool spring air outside. The interior was filled with polished oak tables, comfortable padded chairs, and intricate designs adorning the walls. Thick wooden supports stretched up to the ceiling containing trophies of passersby. These trophies were a variety of items - rare pelts of creatures, signed pictures of performers, retired weapons and armor, and even some currency from distant lands. These adornments told Yuki of the far reaching reputation of the tavern, it made her question just how far the tales of The Kindled Hearth reached. The scent of the famous Kindled Stew tickled her nose and her mouth began to water. Not many aromas could match that of her mother's kitchen, but the Hearth’s was a serious contender in her mind.
Yuki had never seen the tavern as occupied as it was tonight. Every seat in the house was taken, and some patrons were even sitting on the floor in front of the stage. The Kindled Hearth had a rule that after 10 Bell, children were not allowed in the main hall; however, on this night that rule had apparently been suspended, as Yuki counted twenty children dotted throughout the establishment. Whoever was performing tonight must be influential, or at least well-known in the performance community. The Kindled Hearth’s atmosphere was electric with the anticipation of the upcoming show and the air was filled with speculation of the subject that would be on display. Many bards were singers, instrumentalists, and storytellers. Some of these performers would use certain magics to enhance the act, this was seen as tacky within the ranks of the performers. An individual who needed magic to maintain the attention of their audience often meant that their talent in the performance subject matter was lacking.
Yuki, Igris, and I’Kira pushed through the throng of patrons to the bar at the back of the main hall. Many of these customers were heavily impaired by the strong drinks the tavern produced, which unfortunately meant that during their push Igris received a new stain on his shirt from bumping a large dwarf causing his ale to spill from his mug. “Sorry ‘bout that Lad!” the dwarf called out over the noise of the bustling tavern before turning back to his group. Igris waved the apology away and retrieved a small cloth from his pouch trying to soak as much of the beverage as possible out of his shirt. As they finally reached an empty pocket by the bar, I’Kira raised his hand to get the attention of the barkeep.
“Oi, I’Kira!” the barkeep yelled, noticing who was waving them down. “Been quite some time since I’ve seen you here! Welcome back, you be havin’ your regular drink?”
“Most certainly, Tyrian, I’m surprised you remember what that is with all the customers you serve.” I’Kira smirked.
“I see you’ve brought the young mistress wit ya, welcome Yuki. What will you be having tonight?” the barkeep bellowed.
“Well, I think I'll be having some of that stew and a large pint of your local brew. One can’t go wrong with the popular choices.” Yuki smiled back at the disheveled half-elf. Tyrian was tall, muscular, and unkempt. His gray-blond hair was tied into a messy knot with a black ribbon, stragglers of uncaught strands hanging over his face. His blue-gray eyes constantly flicking between the group at the bar and across his domain, always vigilant of trouble brewing. He kept a close watch of the patrons that visited his establishment. Nary a few fights broke out inside the Kindled Hearth, but it did happen and Tyrian stopped them with swift precision. Yuki had heard tales of Tyrian from her father. Before he was a tavern owner, he had fought for the protection of the Southern region of Tyria. He was neither on the side of Light or Dark, but rather, fought for those of the unclaimed villages -villages having no Panthetic Lineage.
“Very good choices! I’ll have it prepared and sent to your table. The second floor has a few open seats I believe. You all can take the server’s stairs up there if you do not wish to cross the sea of drunken idiots.” Tyrian chuckled, waving his hand to the aforementioned masses.
“I think we will take you up on that Tyr. Thank you.” I’Kira said, sliding payment across the bar. “Igris, do you want anything? Or did you get your fair share of liquid from the splash?” Igris glared at I’Kira and replied, “I’d have an ale, no food though, I’m still stuffed from dinner tonight.” Tyrian nodded and yelled back to the kitchen.
“Enjoy the show! I hear it's going to be a good one tonight! Some chap by the name of Quillrick I believe. Although I haven't heard of ‘em, lots of folks apparently have. Haven't seen a crowd this big since the Great Yuske came to town years ago.” Tyrian hollered while showing the trio to the stairs behind the bar. The barkeep bid them fairware as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. It wasn’t as packed up here as it was down below, but there were still many people clamoring around the railings trying to get the best view they could of the stage. The group found an empty booth to the right of the stage, offering a good view that was slightly obstructed by the individuals around them. Within a few minutes of being seated, their food and drinks arrived. Yuki scarfed the stew down quickly, unable to hold back her aggressive hunger, while the other two sipped their drinks and waited for the show to start. Suddenly, the tavern went pitch black and silent. Two dancing lights illuminated the stage as a halfling appeared from the darkness with a lute in hand. The void receded slightly as the halfling took center stage, allowing the fires to bring a soft glow around the tavern.
“Hello Matari, my name is Quillrick Goodbarel! It is a pleasure to be performing here tonight and I hope you find my stories riveting, my songs inspiring, and my jokes to your liking.” Quillrick plucked his lute as he was talking, producing a soft melody that gave his words a calm serenity. The bard began his set with a song about a wayward adventurer in the Dragonsplane of Yutera. The song detailed this adventurer’s time wandering the land, coming across dragons and their kin. There were no battles, no conflict, only humorous reflections of the conversations this adventurer had with the dragons. Quickly following the song, he moved to jokes about dragons, their gold, and their unwillingness to share. The crowd laughed whole-heartedly at his act, cheering the bard on for more and throwing coins on stage to show appreciation to the masterful performance. More songs were played, more jokes were told, and more coins were given. The air of his performance shifted, with his lute playing a melancholy tune. The shift in tone quieted the room as the bard spoke.
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“This next tale is still unfolding, the ramifications of the hero’s actions still being felt. It hasn’t come to its conclusion yet, but the partial story is worth telling until its end is made clear. It begins in Gracefell, the capital city North of here, just East of the Caol Mountains.” Quillrick continued to play a soft, sad melody behind his story allowing his words to take front stage. Yuki had enjoyed the performance so far, but up until this point, I’Kira had been less than attentive. As the name of the city fell from Quillrick’s lips, I’Kira’s ears instantly twitched and he became utterly engrossed in the story.
“As many of you are aware, the Panthetic Seat of Darkness has disappeared from the lands North of here. While Gracefell wasn’t the Panthetic Capital, it did act as the trading hub for the kingdom. The dwarves being the lineage of the Dark Deity, their main cities exist in the mountains and the Panthetic Capital was no different. During my stay in Gracefell, I wandered across a group of adventurers, the first official G.U.I.L.D. party I have ever encountered. Curious as to what they were in the city to accomplish, I asked them to tell me about their assignment. The individual I assume to be their leader was very kind and open about what they were there to accomplish, ‘Discover the cause of the recent plague spreading out from the mountains.’ he said.
I doubt the news has reached this far south, but the area around the mountain has become a desolate place. The grass has turned gray and sharp to walk on without metal-lined boots, the trees have wilted and died, the animals have become crazed and rabid, and the lakes and rivers have become toxic with their inhabitants turning as vicious as those on land. Personally, I no longer felt safe traveling on the western side of the mountains. Luckily the plague hadn’t spread far east, allowing travel to Gracefell relatively securely. I was happy that there was a party going to discover what had happened, what had started this sickness spreading. The citizens of Gracefell were equally grateful to these adventurers, so much so that there was a massive festival wishing them luck in their expedition.
I had never heard such a passionate speech like the one from the leader of the group. I believe this town knows this individual very well actually. His fur is the color of snow, stained with red patches around his eyes and the tips of his ears. He wore a set of fine leather armor and gloves carved with intricate runes. I believe his name was Iskra Kai…”
Quillrick paused his story, the sound of cheers and applause drowning out the lute’s melody. Yuki turned to I’Kira and stared adamantly at his face, watching his expression flick from hope to worry. She attempted to get his attention, but it was useless with I’Kira currently enthralled by the story unfolding on stage.
“Iskra was determined to discover not only the secrets of the plague but the cause of the Kingdom of Dark’s disappearance. With many dwarves in attendance of this festival, he was met with cheers as loud as your own. They had lost their ancestral birthplace and were excited to hear that there were people ready to uncover the mystery. The festival went on into the night with dancing, music, and free flowing ale. In the morning, before anyone could wish them farewell, they had departed.” Quillrick’s lute let out a moan-filled melody, turning the atmosphere in the room from cheerful to daunting. The crowd silenced as the mood shifted and Quillrick continued to play that haunting tune in the void.
“I awaited their return, hoping for a story to bring hope to the masses of this area. I waited and waited, then I waited some more… They have yet to return to this day. They left two months ago and not a word has come from the mountains. Communications to the Dwarven Capital, Caol, and the smaller village of Dirthmire in the southern mountains have also ceased. The plague has begun to spread to the east slowly, however, it has extended now into the Dyster Forests to the south. The Elven city that lies hidden in those leaves has also sent no word, no trade to Gracefell, and no signs of life are sensed by those who walk near. Soon, Matarians, the plague will reach here too, I pray that you are ready. I pray that the adventurers are currently fighting the perpetrators and perpetrators of this curse. I do not tell this tale to scare or dishearten but to inspire and ask for aid. Those who can fight, I beg of you please, be ready. Those who cannot, I advise you to find a new land to call home for the future. I have seen the madness this curse causes, I have seen the devolution of people into beasts. For the sake of your family and friends, leave when the time comes.”
With his final words spoken, Quillrick’s lute ends its desolate tune and he walks off stage, the coins left on stage untouched by the bard. In the silence, he walks to the exit of the tavern and before leaving, he speaks quietly to no one, “I hope Master Kai returns to you unharmed.” The tavern was still, no one daring to break the tension in the room. Even the children understood the gravity of the words that fell from the bard's lips, despite being so inexperienced. Most of the patrons left quickly after the performance ended, a somber air following them home. Murmurs from those left in the Kindled Hearth could be heard and as Yuki listened closely, she could make out the beginnings of plans from those who heeded the advice of the bard. Plans to leave this region and travel to a distant place plans to train and prepare themselves, plans to enroll at the academies before it was too late to learn.
Yuki turned her eyes from the stage and the people below to I’Kira, who was staring in shock at the door of the tavern. She had never seen her uncle look as terrified as he did now. The emotion in his eyes matched the feeling she had in her soul and as I’Kira’s dissociative eyes turned lazily towards hers, he whispered to her and Igris, “We must leave. Now.” The trio rose from their booth and stumbled out of the tavern. Those watching them leave might have assumed they had fallen under the Kindled Ale’s spell, all three swaying in a daze as they retreated home, the stars in the night sky illuminating their way.
The trip to the manor took a lifetime as the story from the bard remained firmly ingrained in their minds. Yuki only realized they had arrived when a manor guard acknowledged their presence at the gate. I’Kira invited Igris to stay in the guest room, wanting to speak with him in the morning. Igris absently agreed and headed into the manor. I’Kira solemnly gazed at Yuki as she walked ahead of him toward the manor entrance. She turned around upon reaching the door and met his eyes as he held his ground ten feet away. The look they shared spoke volumes as they understood that each had the same question circling their head, begging for an answer. Is Iskra… Is Father… Still alive?