Where the Young Prince Stands

             Vitoroy had not been looking forward to this trip, preferring home above anything else in the world. But the summers were the only time he got to see his father, and every year Vitoroy thought he could finally figure out what he wanted out of life by spending time away from home. Every year, that did not turn out to be true, even Vitoroy was not sure why he kept going. Perhaps he just wanted to make his mother happy, let her know that her son was not a total shut in, but it did not make Vitoroy dread the trip any less. It was not the heat of the desert heat that worried him, all dwarves even half-breeds had internal temperature regulation. It was just having to be away from his mountain, or even his father’s house, away from any semblance of home that made Vitoroy uncomfortable.               But now, now Vitoroy was there at the dig, marveling at the massive tent that surrounde...

            Shabaka usually hated long rides like this one, but this time it did not bother her. All she cared about was the fact that she was about to go on her first real adventure and live like the heroes she admired. Then again, that did not make riding in a cramped train cart with five other people any more pleasant. They each had their own way of coping with this particularly uncomfortable ride. Shabaka was excited enough that it did not bother her as much as it normally would have, Amare stayed in a deep meditation nearly the entire duration of the ride; Tilian read; Vitoroy hated everything so this was not much worse for him; Smallblade was truly miserable, willowing and whining the whole time; but Bard… Bard was unfazed. Shabaka was never able to grasp the kind of man her father was, now she learned that he was the kind of man that could keep himself distracted by staring out a window off into the distance.       ...

  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...