The patient monk who was an impatient bard

Besouro was trained since he was a kid at the monastery of the Capoeira Monks. This monastery, once secluded and very selective with their attendees, opened their doors to new practitioners since the beginning of the reign of Queen Morghesa. Humans and other humanoids, now fleeing from the destruction of the war seek refugee among the walls of the monastery. The monastery stays in a high-plain, on top of the Mount Roraima, in the far north of the continent. The capoeira monks enlist themselves in the ranks of the resistance in order to support the rebellion against the war. For years, Queen Morghesa tried to subdue to the monastery, but old, and foreign, magic protects them from her attacks.

Besouro is a changeling, and his parents died during the war against Queen Morghesa. No one exactly knows where the changelings come from, but due to their abilities, they usually lived hidden among human villages. One of the villages close to the monastery was attacked by the forces of the seven dwarves, and Besouro's family got killed when he was just four years old. He was saved from starvation by Master Bimba, who brought him to the monastery. There, he trained hard and quickly raised on the ranks as a Capoeira Monk. Due to his changeling nature, he was approached by an inner section of the Capoeira Monks to be trained in the Way of Shadows. The Shadow Capoeira Monks are responsible to provide intelligence for the monastery and their allies. They train to become true shadow dancers. Only a few of the high-rank monks know about the true identity of Besouro's race. To the others, he appears as a normal human.

During his training, Besouro got close to a bard that once lived in the monastery. Since Besouro was the only changeling on the entire monastery, he got quite lonely. The bard's songs and tales about changelings was the only source of knowledge he ever had about his people. The bard was old and very wise, had seen the world, he told Besouro. Besouro loved his master, but the bard was the family Besouro never had.
In his young age, the bard had been very famous. He wandered the entire continent, he was a friend of kings and queens. He was very smart, very charismatic and with a strong character. He was super stubborn, and because of the success of his deeds, put himself above everyone else. Albeit his success, the bard lost everything he had, even before the war of Morghese, due to two big problems: he was addicted to luck games, and to women.

After he came back from a very long mission, Besouro found out that the bard had died in an attack from Morghese. Feeling strong anger within himself, Besouro screamed with his mouth and with his soul. His pain was so strong, that at that moment he split in two: he had been struck by the changelings' disease: the second persona. At that moment, a second personality took over Besouro's body: an incarnation of the Bard. Every once in a while, the Bard takes over Besouro's body, he changes his appearance and attains to the most strong characteristics of the bard: arrogant, short-temper, stubborn, and most importantly: addicted to gambling and women. He also becomes much more lovely, charismatic and seductive, contrasting with the monastic and incredibly patience of Besouro. Also, he gets the proficiency in playing the Berimbau, the ancient musical instrument of the Capoeira Monks, which he uses to entertain the crowd.

In one of the missions, the Shadow Capoeira Monks sent him, to spy over the brothers, he got arrested. It was a beginners mistake, he could not control his temper when hearing bad things about the "stupid dancing monks, that jump like monkeys and are useless as worms". The Bard came out and started a big discussion.  His sudden change, from the frightened and silent villager he was transformed into the opulent, noise and very angry bard had called the attention of the guards, which had no trouble in arresting him, while in his Bard form, and threw him in a prison cell. Once in prison, the bard gave up, and he could resume his capoeirista form. The guards knew about his identity, but not the nature of his mission. Yet.

True nature: In his natural form, Besouro is slender and pale, with colorless eyes and silver-white long hair.

Bard nature: Human, around 60 years old, white hair, strong features, round body, seductive voice.

Capoeira nature: Black skin, long black dreadlocks, no shirt, long green pants, green, yellow and blue cord around his waist. Very silent.

New Slaves

Siegfried look out through the gaps in his window blinds at the carts slowly moving past. Another five large cages with people rolled towards the old castle. Almost every day, carts with prisoners moved towards the stronghold set against the mountain that once belonged to Lord Baldor, before the dark forces overran this land north of the mountains and butchered the old elite. Now two brothers ruled this land with an iron fist. Bront and Lolwin, two people who could not be more dissimilar. The first massive, brutal, and dull. The other of small build, agile, evil, and intelligent. They commanded a large contingent of equally brutal forces, mostly human and recruited from the local area.

Siegfried's eyes caught the gaze of a horned, sad looking creature in one of the cages. Maybe he would be one to be killed or beheaded at the weekly "tournaments", where the soldiers liked to fight against already tortured and weak prisoners for fun. Or they would be transported further, into the mountains, apparently to the seat of Queen Morghesa who would eat them alive. Or so the stories go in the pub.

Things have changed in the last 40 years after the queen's goblins, hobgoblins, and undead went through on their way north. Siegfried and his two suns have to work the smithy every day until they drop of exhaustion, just to get enough food to survive. His daughter killed herself 2 years ago after being repeatedly raped by Bront's "neighborhood protectors". The little bit of resistance that was there, in the beginning, has long stopped. You can only lose so many sons and daughters. 

He looked after the carts a while more before going to bed. They will bring them to the prison, a large area filled with cages and pits. He can look at the new arrivals tomorrow, on his way to the furnaces again.           

Mornië utúlië

Dirin-Gal was astonished. She had expected to take part in a desperate but hopelessly futile attempt to stop whatever was going on. Stopping an evil ritual. Saving her own life. Getting revenge on the dwarfs for hunting her down. And she had run around the corner after these others with the full expectation of a quick and maybe even painful death......

And now just after the fight started, the elven assassin had taken the first dwarf down, maybe even their main spellcaster. She could see the dwarf go down after the first attack and the elf delivering a swift coup de grace. The elven woman was already onto the heavily wounded barbarian and the body of the girl on the stone altar just started moving, which meant the invisible sorcerer might have reached her to disturb the magic flow. Things did not look so dire as they first seemed. There might be a chance to get out of this alive.

Just as she loosened another bolt at the barbarian, who by now looked seriously wounded but would not yet go down, she saw movement at the far door. Two caragor riders appeared, immediately joining the fray. She could see the elf moving against another dwarf. Why does he not turn invisible again? He would not get an advantage like this with the other dwarf already moving towards him! With all her training, Dirin-Gal made a quick assessment of the situation. She could see one of the caragors ignoring the elf. This could only mean they also spotted the moving body of the girl and the wavering beam of light. In one smooth motion, she turned her hand towards the beast and shot again. She would not be able to save the elf, but she could give the sorcerer more time. The body was almost out of the beam. If only she could get the beast's attention long enough. And suddenly the body moved upwards and vanished. They did it.

Outside on the green field near the spire, Thoravil looked at the beautiful woman in his hands. He had rescued the damsel in distress. He had single-handedly disrupted whatever ritual it was that needed the body as a channelling ingredient. He was looking up, whether he could already see the first signs of a disruption of the beam and thus his victory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the eyes of the woman opening. What beautiful eyes. Deep. Captivating. He looked straight at her and said, "I saved you, don't worry, you are save now!". He could see a flicker of what must have been confusion in her eyes. Surely the poor girl did not know what was happening. Nothing he could not handle. "I got you out of the grasps of the evil dwarfs and their magic. You are in the hands of the mighty wizard Thoravil. I'll protect you! Don't you worry!" She lifted her head and smiled. What a beautiful smile. What a soft and melodic voice. "Let me kiss you then my hero!". Finally, after all these years, things seem to have turned out well! He moved his face towards hers. As the lips touched, the world stopped. Her eyes suddenly turned from a sapphire blue to a dark burning red. His extremities turned cold and he could feel his life force being sucked out of his body. But the eyes. He loved those eyes.

Morghesa could feel the arcane energy flowing through her body. The ritual had worked and this fool had just given her the last bit of energy she needed. Over the last weeks, all the magical energy from the surrounding country, collected by this age-old magical lens, had flowed into her body, together with all the life. She was immortal. Invincible. The strongest spellcaster in eons. And she could feel it. The land. The creatures. The ebb and flow of arcane energy around her. The fight inside her new palace. Yes, the fight....

The tide had changed. Dirin-Gal saw the body vanish, just as an army of goblins and hobgoblins stormed through the far door. From behind she could see a group of black-clad men rounding the corner, chased by two more dwarfs and another army of hobgoblins. They were surrounded. Just as she braced herself for her last stand, time seemed to stop. The room suddenly was filled with a bright white light and a figure appeared on the slab of stone. First she thought Thoravil had cast a spell, but the shape hinted at a female with a long flowing dress. "STOP!" All fighting stopped and all heads turned towards this massive discharge of energy that all could feel. The voice seemed to come from inside Dirin-Gal's head. "I AM MORGHESA, YOUR QUEEN. BOW TO ME OR PERISH!". As the goblins and dwarfs dropped to their knees, one man from the group of black fighters charged forward towards the queen, shimmering blue in, what Dirin-Gal guessed, was a protection sphere. The queen's head turned and she slowly lifted her hand towards the attacker. A beam of light hit the magical sphere and for a second it stopped before the sphere collapsed and the body of the man started to glow red from within. Within two steps, the body turned black, cracked, and disintegrated into smaller, black parts that became gray ash when hitting the ground. Within seconds, only small ash clouds were all that was left. Two other men started to run shouting "Faron!" and went up in flame after a short glance from the woman. After this everything turned quiet. The queen slowly turned her head and started to walk towards the few people still standing. "Anyone else who disagrees with me taking control?". Dirin-Gal went down on her knee as the queen looked at her and she could see Vrael and Ashara do the same. "Good, this seems settled then. Where is Kort?" "Dead, my queen", one of the dwarfs answered looking up, "Killed by him!", pointing at Vrael. The queen had a curious look on her face that quickly turned into a smile. "Killed? Stand up and come to me my champions and see that, as my eyes, ears, and arms, you too shall be immortal!". As six dwarfs stood up and moved towards the queen, she reached down to the 7th dwarf, violet light engulfing the body. The dwarf opened the eyes, looked around confused, but very quickly saw Morghesa and stood up to kneel. "My queen, it has worked! I'm at your service!" "Yes Kort, it has worked. Thanks to you and your brothers, this world is now ours to grab!" Her eyes moved from dwarf to dwarf while she walked slowly along the seven, again kneeling, dwarfs. "You will be my champions, leading my armies, guiding my swords, governing my empire. Together we will shape this world anew to our liking. Rise, my generals and counselors!" As the seven stood up, one of them turned towards Ashara and Vrael. "What about them? They have tried to stop us and have killed Kort!" "They have tried indeed. I would not like to see good talent go to waste, but since it was Kort who suffered, it is his decision and I trust his judgment." With these words, she turned and walked up to the slab of stone again, which started to glow and turn into a throne made of sapphires and white marble. She gracefully turned around, sat down, slowly looked up towards the sapphire dome above her and closed her eyes. "It is time to call forth our army and introduce ourselves to the world!"       

Mornië alantië

Word Play

"Words?" Dera'nah looked at the rune in front of her. "Yes, words. What did your folks teach you about words?" "Well, words transfer information and can change people's minds." "Yes, quite literally!" Nuella chuckled as Dera'nah raised her eyebrow. "Seems that we have to start from the beginning my dear. Yes, words can be used to pass on information and can change people's minds through argument, and everybody knows that. But even arcane users have figured out long ago that words can be used to summon and change energy patterns. Words have power if spoken right, and have already been used through the eons for showy wizardry." Dera'nah thought about this. "You are talking about creating fire and lightning bolts?" "Yes! Exactly! Sorcerers and wizards have it all figured out, they think!" "But they are powerful!" "Actually, my child, the most powerful wizards know about their shortcomings and have long tried to study old texts, to find out where they went wrong!" Nuella chuckled again "Good that we don't write things down, don't you think?"

"What they don't understand is why words have power. They think they command reality and reality bends to their will!" Another impish laugh. "Oh my, I have seen many a powerful wizard try and fail to even command the simplest animals or elementals!" She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes. "No, my child, words have power because many of them resonate with the melody that created the world. The Great Song that creates our reality is a complex symphony and many words, even by accident, come close to resemble small parts of it, creating a small change in The Song and thus a tangible effect. " Dera'nah looked at her unbelieving. "You mean..." "Yes, child, the Great Song that creates all and everything, the song that is all around us and within us, can be changed. By words." Nuella smiled and Dera'nah fell back in her chair. "That is what grandmother always hinted at. She always said I have to tune in, to concentrate on the melody of life." "Yes, that ability is the secret of all druids and gives us immense power and responsibility! Wizard and sorcerers luckily use the wrong language. They created their own arcane languages, capturing only parts of the important melodic components. The old languages came into being when The Symphony could still be clearly heard and thus naturally resonate strongly with the tunes of life and reality. Druidic is one of the oldest and is so close to the base melody that it has to be spoken carefully to not disrupt reality and create dissonance and disaster."

Dera'nah silently formed the words of known spells in her mouth, feeling for their melody. "Yes, the better you hit the intended melody, the stronger the effect will be. This is why you have to meditate each morning to tune yourself to the Great Song again, to feel the melody. Once you get better, you will feel the song in your body and all around you and it will become easier. You will be able to intuitively correct or cause dissonance and change the melody to mold reality around you. But we are getting ahead of ourselves, are we!" Dera'nah traced with her finger the outline of the rune that was etched into the wood. "What happens to the words once written down?" "Oh, a good question my child! That is where it becomes interesting! Sorcerers write down their spells just to be able to remember them. Little they know! All living things, and even things that had once life in them, can retain a memory of a melody. After all, they only exist because of The Song and so by remembering a tune, they can constantly change the Song by adding their little chords into it." "Oh, so the words don't have to be written?" "They can! It often helps the creator of the item to focus their thoughts, but the melody of those thoughts impressed into the item is what counts. The clearer and more focused the melody is, the stronger the item!"

Dera'nah looked at her pendant. The little piece of wood somehow had come to her mind. Nuella looked at the pendant with a knowing smile. "The piece of your mother already contains memories of The Song, since she was born when the Great Symphony was still young. It would be easy to imbue it with some extra tunes. Why don't you try to store some strength in it? You remember the words of the spell I taught you today?" "Bull's strength, sure!" "Then sing the words in your head. Try to align the melody of the words as closely as you can to The Song inside you and then include the piece of wood in your melody as well." Dera'nah closed her eyes and repeatedly spoke the words, listening to the tune they created. It sounded wrong in the beginning, but after a while, and some changes in intonation, it somehow felt better, more fluent, and she could feel strength flowing through her. She touched the pendant and could feel a second faint melody joining into the first. She tried to weave it into the first and after some reprises, the melodies slowly converged to form a new small tune. The melody filled her mind, blocking everything out. Slowly, she could feel the strength not only coming from within her, but flowing into her through her arm. Startled, she looked up and could feel the pendant in her hand pulsating. Nuella smiled. "Well done! Still weak, containing many small discords still that hurt my ears, but a start!" Dera'nah looked at the pendant in awe. It felt as if energy was flowing from the pendant. She could feel the strength. "You created your first magical item! But be careful, each creation drains you and a small piece of your own melody is always staying behind to act as a bridge. Create too many too fast and you create disharmonies in yourself. But now, let's eat! Even watching you work magic has left me peckish! You must be starving! And tell your pony, if it nibbles at my roses again, I will literally root it to patch where only dry grass grows!"         

A Damsel in Distress

Darwen looked up as Ambros, her trustworthy guard, entered the small room. The elf who introduced himself as Vrael and the half-breed Thoravil stood a bit further left and discussed what else to ask her, after she had told them everything she knew about the events on the small island. She knew she could not help much, since she herself did not understand what happened.
Ambros looked clearly uncomfortable without his well-worn breastplate and was constantly adjusting the fit of the worn down leather armour. Darwen just realised, it had two holes in the middle of the chest with wet red spots surrounding them and had to look away. "My lady, can we help with anything?" "Not now my dear Ambros. What is your guess the strangers will do with us? Will they bring me to my father?" "I don't know, my lady. It seems they are considering bringing you back to the city. But after all that happened there, I don't think this would be for your best!" "Why, what exactly happened in the city? What do you know?"

"Well, we heard from Faron's mercenaries that the city mob has fully taken the castle and have imprisoned or killed all your men who resisted. Faron's men and ours alike. Batholomäus has officially declared Drynfort a free trading city. It seems that they had just waited until our force was divided and, I suspect, had some help from inside, since the eastern gate was opened with very little fighting or warning. Either one of our men let them in or slept on his station and let the bastards surprise him." "Well, once my father is back, this will hopefully be resolved and we can return." "I guess not without bloodshed, my lady. According to Faron's scouts, who had the city under surveillance, the revolutionaries are fortifying the city walls and prepare for a siege. Other accounts report that your father is already gathering support from the surrounding baronies and is amassing a striking force to take the city back by force if necessary." "Couldn't he use the secret door that we have used to leave the castle? I didn't even know it exited until you guided me through to the river!" "Only few do. How Faron's men knew about it, I don't know. But Bartholomäus knows that we left unseen and will without doubt look for the secret passage. Sooner or later they might find it. But I'm sure your father and Molok are certain about its strategic value and will include this in their striking plans." "Oh Ambros, I don't know. This all sounds so desolate. Will we ever be able to return? Are the others still alive? Juliana? Elisa?" "I don't know, my lady. Your maids were hiding when we left and I'm sure they posed no threat to the attackers to be killed." With a quick movement of his head towards the strangers, he tried to hide his face that might give away what he thought. Good looking young women on a battleground? Not killed maybe, but not better off either. "Let me talk to the strangers again. Maybe I can convince them to bring us to your father instead or let us four guards guide you back. But I would rather much prefer a larger detail." 

As Ambros approached Vrael, Thoravil started to address him: "We have heard what you came for. Why should we not bring them back to the city and give them to Bartholomäus for protection? It sounds the city is a safer place for her than a battlefield in front of its gates!" "True, but you don't know Bartholomäus. His greed and ambition pose a threat to Lady Darwen. He might use her to threaten her father in case of attack, might force her into marriage, since he always wanted to raise to nobility, or might trade her otherwise to another party. He is not to be trusted. Especially not now since he has reached his goal of becoming ruler, a goal we long suspected he aspires for." "How much would she be worth to ..." "Thoravil!" Vrael stopped his companion "Ambros, what do you think her father might do if we deliver her safely to him?" "He will surely reward you plenty. The Baron was always a generous man to his allies! He might even offer you work since you have shown your worth when fighting us and the merc's. I can vouch for you and your skills. The baron is always in need of good fighters, especially magic users and healers will come in handy in the upcoming siege!" Thoravil, still shooting deadly looks at Vrael, found his mental footing again: "So that means he will pay more than Bartholomäus or Faron?" Ambros gave Thoravil a measured look which did not hide his disgust. "He will definitely hunt you down with more tenacity should you give his daughter into his enemy's hands! And Faron it seems does not further need mylady, since he left her here while riding for another stronghold, no doubt to gather his mercenaries or cut losses and bugger off. Master Vrael, think about the situation and talk to your companions. What are you going to do?"

Cognitive Invisibility

Moments passed. "Well, dear, don't just stand there and look baffled. The biscuits are getting cold!" Dera'nah still tried to make sense of it all in her head. "How did you ..., Who ..., What spell ...?" "Ok, in this order: I am close friends with your mother, she said you'd be coming, and you are in my wood. In this wood, I know all that moves. Gave me enough time to make biscuits. I'm Nuella, the nymph of this water and guardian of this forest. I know your mother since the earth was young and before this wood grew around me. And finally: People sometimes don't want to see things or see only what they want and mostly doubt they are on the right way, anyway. I'm just helping them a bit to develop this thought to maturity. Really doesn't take much, if you look at it. I don't want strangers in my forest and the forest just helps them to prefer paths that lead out again quickly. But enough time later for your education! If you don't come with me right now, I'll eat your biscuit or feed it to your pony!" Sira'nah was already sitting at the window sill and the Cheetah and Pony were already on the way to the small door. "Ok, well, ... Rata'nah, Fastra'na, back here, what do you think you are doing??"
"Oh, don't worry, enough place for all in my humble abode. Animals never have to stay outside if they want to keep me company. Come on you two, meet Jingle and Jangle." And so, still confused and under the watchful eyes of two ferrets, Dera'nah followed the group that was already chatting amiably amongst them through the round wooden door.

An unexpected teacher

It was hard to concentrate to see the path in front of her. It rather was a small and clearly visible path, but it was almost as if the path itself was constantly suggesting to follow other paths. As soon as Dera'nahs concentration slipped, she was certain that another path leading off was the right one. Only by holding tight to the wooden pendant to focus her mind was she able to track the path which was currently following a small brook upstream.

It was now a day since she had left the city, following the counsel of her mother. The past events with the group of adventurers and mercenaries had left her uneasy and she was not certain anymore that she could resist the powers that were against her. The golem was the last straw. How could she fight the enemies of Mother Nature, when she was up against forces so powerful they could create such a monster? Her mother had assured her that this was exactly what she had to experience on her path of becoming a wise woman and leader amongst the Killoren and wood folk. She had to know the powers her opponents could wield to prepare herself properly against them. On the question of how she could prepare with the little knowledge and wisdom she so far had, a path had manifested itself in her mind and, trusting her mother, she had left the group and followed it into the forest outside the city gates. After she broke the connection to her mother, she got the impression that she had achieved some important step, but was unable to see what or how.

On the afternoon of the second day, with three restless animals in tow that did not leave her side anymore, Dera'nah stepped into a clearing on the side of the hill which she had slowly climbed over the last hour. The clearing was dominated by a large oak with impressive roots coming out of the ground downhill from the tree. The water of the brook fanned out and trickled down over the largest root which formed an almost circular arc on the right of the tree, creating a small waterfall which continued in a cascade of ponds that finally continued as the brook she had followed. Although the beauty and peace that this place emanated clearly reached Dera'nah's mind, it was hard to concentrate on the details and it took all her willpower to really look at the scene in front of her. Once she concentrated, she realised that the root formed the roof of a small hut or burrow that was half covered by the waterfall. To the right was a small patch of garden. Despite the constant feeling in her head that this was just a wild field of flowers, she could make out distinct patches of well-tended herbs. It seemed that only the specific area she currently concentrated on was clear, while the peripheral vision still implicated just a grassy area with flowers, and there was a constant urge to follow the path that left the sunfilled glade. Somehow knowing that this was the goal of her journey, she continued onwards and soon could make out a small shaded circular area, formed by the root as a roof, the tree trunk on one side and waterfall on the other. The path led to a door that went into the tree next to a small circular window. As Dera'nah carefully approached the patio area, it suddenly felt as if she entered a bubble and she could see clearly without concentrating. Surprised, she looked around and turned back and could see a well-trodden path behind her, leading through an area with planted fields, she could make out grain, corn and some kind of cabbage with a quick glance, and a herb garden with an impressive variety of plants, many unknown to her. She started turning back to the door when she heard a melodic voice that reminded her a bit of the sound of slowly running water or calm waves: "Ah, hello my dear. You finally made it! I already feared you won't make it on time. Come in, tea and biscuits are ready!"