Where the Young Prince Stands

  Blood of the Bard Act I In the City of Giants     Bard walked about his house on the first morning of the first visit of his children where none of their mothers were present. He just wanted to see them and wish them a good morning, because he loved them.             First was Amare, who was the only real adult in the house, including Bard. Xey were in the kitchen, making breakfast.             “What are we having?” Bard asked, seeing that Amare had just put out a match xey used to start the stove’s flame.             “Bacon, and some eggs,” said Amare. “We are going to have to go to market later and get more of both those things,” xey said in a dismissive manner.             “I didn’t know you were going to be making this,” Bard replie...

            The bastard half-blood elf approached the tavern and with xem, was the hero’s charge.             Drinks were free at the bar that night, after all Bard and his buddies had just saved the world. The heroic party of three had been given parades, riches, and titles, but just being able to celebrate with their friends meant more to them than anything. To think, just a year ago, they had been amnesiacs waking up in a dungeon not even able to remember their own names. They resorted to calling each other by their apparent professions, Bard, Rogue, and Paladin. Even after they remembered their true identities, the names stuck.             Currently, Paladin was escorting the people too drunk to stand to their homes, Rogue was one of those people too drunk to stand. Meanwhile, Bard was playing his harp to the crowd, especially the fair maide...

             He had died but he still remembered. She awoke, the doctors looked over her. A woman sighed with joyous relief, but he still remembered. The memories of old would slowly fade but she wailed to go home, wailed in a vain hope to return to a life they would never be able to return to. A life she would soon forget.

            The king hid behind his throne from the attack, his guards had not only failed to stop the offenders, but they had opened the door for them. This was not an attack of force, it was one of intimidation, and the king knew he could not win.             He was known as King Vinus XVII, but most of his loved ones referred to him by his birthname of Gron. Although as the years went on, the people who called him that became less and less. He was an old sack of bones with no family and no heirs, once he died, it was the end of his dynasty. The gods had cursed him with infertility and sent a plague upon his lands that took everyone that could have set upon the throne, the common and noble folks alike had begun to doubt his mandate from heaven. Now these Bagmen had made their decision clear.             Face your end like a man. Gron remembere...

            Virgil had to do this. She had been taken from the world far too soon. It wasn’t fair. They always warned him that life wouldn’t be. But shouldn’t it? He thought it should, and he was going to try and make that the case. In order to do this, he would have to face many trials. The first of which was the dog.             The beast with three heads was as tall as a house that some rich man would own. Six beady red eyes the size of basket balls stared back at Virgil, as he approached the gates. The black monster growled at him. But he had a plan for this. Because, despite the two extra heads, Cerberus, was still a dog. Virgil reached into his back pocket and pulled out three strips of bacon dog treats.             “Sit!” Virgil commanded. The dog sat down and slowly began to shrink down in size. until it was not much larger than Virgil’s...

            It was all hell; it was all suffering. Nothing in the world could make him happy no matter how hard he tried, not his interests, not eating his comfort foods, not even the people he loved. No matter what, this miserable world would not let him be happy. The older he got the more aware of everything he became the more he saw the ugly side of it all. Everything he thought he could trust turned out to be a lie, every bit of good he thought he could do for the world turned out to either be pointless or actively harmful to the thing he was trying to help. The only thing he thought he did right and was good were the things that made the people he loved happy. Even if he did not feel that happiness, he wanted to make them feel it. They were the only thing that made his life worth living, not the people how good he was just for doing his job, the job he had to do to put food on the table, not people asking him to be selfless and to suffer when that was ...

               Swordarok, the Dark Lord, Emperor of the Evil Empire, had but one weakness. He could not start his day until he had his coffee, that was nonnegotiable. After that, he and his generals could start plotting what village to burn down next. The youngest general suggested capturing slaves but Swordarok reminded him that allowing survivors only results in them vowing vengeance and coming after the men who did it. Next on the agenda was for Swordarok to brood in his throne room. He always made sure to look menacing, ready for some hero to burst on through. They would say something along the lines of, you-killed-my-father, or your-reign-of-tyranny-ends-today! They would always quickly fall to him, thinking that spamming one attack while constantly drinking healing potions was enough. Normally that would be but Swordarok discovered that if you don’t repeat the same attack patterns over and over you become harder to beat. Unfortuna...