What self-respecting Knight of Anathaeum left the scene of a murder under investigation to wet his parched throat?
This was the incredulous question that had let the goons hunting Desmonthenes operate boldly, in broad daylight, without fear, while the Order was a-calling in the same little...
The morning sun shifted the timbre of its song as Dez hurried down the street; the muted glow began to crescendo into a blaze. Squinting, the young man felt a headache coming on. He'd been fighting late into the night, hardly had a few hours rest, and now was fearing investigation for murder...
Dead. Of course she was dead.
Peering over the heads of several grubby villagers, Dez watched the scene unfolding in quiet horror. These three were clearly Order members, were there more already in the hamlet? Naturally, now they showed up, when just two days prior-
Hell. The woman had just...
He limped through a hollow carcass of ash and char. The head of a crossbow bolt was still in his thigh, the wet warm numbness having given way to a horrid twinging pain. In his hands he still clutched the neck of his trusty old lute he’d bought in his hometown years ago. The neck felt so...
Well, this was a disaster.
A towel still clutched in his hands, the dishwasher stood in the kitchen doorway and looked warily at the proffered instrument. He'd always meant to tell the Mistfalls he could play.... eventually. But of course, his proclivity for singing absentmindedly had gotten...
Letting a tray full of dishes clatter into a washbasin, Dez thought to himself he needed to stop thumping trays around; he was bound to break something eventually. Of course, he was being foolish. There was no reason to be terse. The elf might've been a shmarmy git and a shameless flirt, but...
"Funny you should ask!"
Seemingly out of nowhere, a great tray crashed down onto Tyrenlil's table, laden with the trappings of a full breakfast. A young man in an apron stood before the elf, having positioned himself directly in front of Tanith, blocking her from view. With a strained smile...
Fancy establishment or no, Alliria was a port town through and through, and everyone knew the legend of the Serpent. Even those who'd never heard Dez's song were getting excited; this was a great story. The young minstrel tried his best to make the chorus rhythmic, so his audience could sing...
What's that? My professor made it a zoom class today? But I haven't seen a link.... or any kind of instructions.... ah well, guess I have no choice but to spend an extra hour on Chronicles. (sighs heavily) I mean, what other options are there?
Oh dear.... was that? No. Couldn't be. He shouldn't profile. There were more than a handful of drow in Alliria. She could be anybody. And Dez had never actually seen her. So what if she looked exactly as drunk tavern goers had been describing her for the last 2 months he'd been playing around...
Now this was a venue.
Four stories of graystone walls, decorated interior with polished wooden paneling? This place was unbelievable. Just looking around the teahouse made Dez smile widely, as he thought to himself that he'd actually managed to land a gig here. The young man fidgeted nervously...
Dez is a native of the Reach, and part of the fun of joining a far-flung thread is deciding what a minstrel with middling magic is doing way the heck in some freezing mountain range or sweltering swamp. He doesn't travel without reason, so thinking one up gives me some starting motivation...
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