Arromar could hardly believe his luck. Three days ago he had been just another worthless tiefling. He didn't exactly go unnoticed, his red skin, small horns and long tail prevented that. He didn't just want to be noticed, he wanted fame.
Bard college had ended months ago, lute playing, poetry, storytelling,
they were all in Arromar's repertoire now. His problem was that he didn't have
anything to sing about, no stories to tell or poems to write. Yes, there were the same old
stories of dwarven kings reclaiming their mountain throne, and fat halflings realizing
their true potential for thievery, but tavern patrons had heard them all before. Arromar didn't want to be another two-bit entertainer playing for his
dinner to a bunch of drunks more interested in the skirts of the waitresses
than the cleverness of his rhymes. He wanted, he needed, to be more than that.
Now, three days later, he was on the road with a motley crew consisting of two half-orcs, a race even more discriminated against than tieflings, a
contemplative gnome, whom Arromar suspected was eating the mushrooms from his
knapsack for a reason other than sustenance, and a brash half-elf paladin, who
has seemed to take the position of leader. Each of the traveling companions
wasn't sure what to think of the others, having been in each other's company
for just over a day.
Arromar found it hard to believe it had been just one day.
They'd found each other on the road, had a minor dispute about whether Feng,
the incredibly strong, barbaric half-orc that the paladin Varis had been
transporting in a cage, belong in a cage just on account of his race. That
dispute was barely mended when they'd come upon the small farming village of
Greenest. Fire and smoke made visibility poor, but they still managed to make
out a blue dragon, assaulting the minor keep in the center of the village.
The five of them,
eager to make a name for themselves as adventurers had rushed into town.
Kobolds and men in strange red robes were everywhere, but seemed to pay them
little notice. They rescued a family with three teenage daughters from a
bakery, and two young boys hiding in a stable. It all happened so fast, without
having time to second-guess the likely foolhardy decision, they'd run towards
the center of town, bringing their rescued victims to the very keep they'd seen
assaulted by the dragon. The mayor had mentioned some sort of plan, but to
Arromar, it looked like all hope was lost.
Alric, one of the half-orcs, and Varis went up to the roof
to shoot their arrows at the dragon, which turned out to be a pointless waste
of arrows. Perhaps the dragon had been growing bored of the siege, or perhaps
he was incredibly sensitive, but when Arromar, not knowing what else to do, had
started to play his lute and improvise rhyming couplets teasing the dragon with
childish, schoolyard insults, the dragon flew away. The mayor and townspeople
had declared Arromar a hero, cheering his name. This was why he went to bard
college.
Although the five of them were treated as heroes, the night
ended badly for Greenest. The majority of villagers were killed in the raid,
and all of the town's valuables had been hauled away in big, wooden carts. The
attackers, which they later found out to be dragon cultists, had left town
towards the rising sun in the east.
Now they were tracking them, turns out Alric, the half-orc,
was some sort of woodland ranger, and knew his way around the wilderness.
Arromar couldn't believe they were willingly going towards such a large force, but whenever his fears came close to
overcoming him, he'd think of the songs that would be sung about them. The
songs he would sing about them. He
kept marching, they were getting close. They'd sneak into the camp, blending in
amongst the chaos, and figure out why Greenest had been attacked.
