Tall Tales at the Magenberg Faire

As smoke filled the room and ale sloshed onto the floor, laughs rung loudly against the oaken walls. A crowd of tavern goers, men, women and their children leaned into focus, eager to hear more of the tale as the Storyteller filled the group with a pregnant silence.
 
“That’s when Ezriel, the bold and the mighty lost his grip and shouted for me to help him. My Aaracockra companion: Aera-Oos, bless its soul, tried to use its mighty wings to catch him and break his fall but missed and was knocked unconscious from crashing into the rocky wall.” His hands twirled over two spheres of light, coalescing into the bright shapes of a falling man and a bird swooping after him. Gasps of wonder and amusement rung out, the display was a cantrip he had learned years ago. The first ever magic taught he had learned, taught by a traveling arcanist years ago.
 
“...So-so how did you save them Jazbet?”The curious tone sounded comically innocent but came from the gruff voice of a forester, his leather coif curled in his hands in worried anticipation.
 
The blue eyed story teller looked back to them, a cocky smirk painted across his face as he matter of factly stated “Why, I jumped on Aera-Oos’ back and used their wings to glide.” He sipped his mug of beer as the townsfolk slammed their mugs against the tables, slapped their knees and shouted in disbelief. Haughty guffaws filled the room as the bar maiden brought rounds of more drinks. Copper coins being placed on the table as image of light, the size of a small painting changed to show the ridiculous image of a heroic and determined Jazbet gliding with the wings of his Aaracockra companion firmly in his hand, unconscious but utilized by a rider like a paraglide.
“The many beasts of the Underdark raced their way toward my stout companion, but his propensity and talent toward violence did him little mid-flight. It was by the dint of luck, and no small skill might I add that I thrust one of his used javelins into the rocky formation next to us, and grabbed his hand. His massive frame nearly pulling my arm out it’s socket but the javelin found purchase, and with it so did we.” He looked into the eyes of a young serving girl, ignoring the other patrons in hopes of hearing more.
 
And in his most serious, and deepest of tones, he said: “It was the most heroic thing you could have possibly seen.”
 
Aera Oos looked over at Jazbet telling his wild tale, Jazbet’s hands moving excitedly as he poured over the details bringing in the patrons ever closer. Aera Oos grunted under his breath to Ezriel beside him “That’s not quite how I remember it.” Aera Oos put a coin down and motions over to the barkeep “another ale.”
 
With a vein sticking out of his head Ezriel looked at aera oos and mumbled “We should’ve left him”
but after what seemed like a barrel full of alcohol started screaming “Tell’em how we slew that statue demon!!”
 
“Tell them how we slew that statue demon!” Immediately the tavern goers placed more coin onto the table. “You’s slew demons Master Storyteller?!” The forester exclaimed, his eyes that vaunted mixture of wonder and incredulation. The tavern goers eyes widened, children grinned with mouths wide open.
 
Jazbet feigned abashment and rubbed his head looking down, kicking away weakly at a dust bunny not there. “Oh I wouldn’t say all that...”
 
He looked up sharply, his face veiled in shadow except for one eye and a glowing grin.
 
“More like we annihilated any connection he could ever have to the material plane.” The cheers rang out yet again.
 
“It all started with Quizherrab Cumberbatch, a crying gnome of the cheese mongering variety. Found crying and surrounded by all manners of beast, we had cast away all notions of self preservation in hopes to save this poor soul, a sniveling and weak creature. He claimed to know the whereabouts of the ancient city of Shaalva, and promised us aid in its search.” Words that these folk only knew from children’s tales...the Underdark, Shaalva...facts were lost on them, and had a nasty way of ruining the truth. A good story was two parts fact one part fiction. This he learned on the roads that led from Doolin.
These people needed stories to retell their kids, stories to keep the flame of a light heart burning and alive. He smiled warmly to the bar maid, who warmly returned his smile. And looking to his companions he nodded.
 
Now would be the time for truth.
 
“There are no shadows in the Underdark. It is a place for alertness, but not aliveness. No imagination or dreams can exist here. Crushed by the oppressive weight of miles and miles of trapped air and thick earth.” His hands whirling in that motion over the table ceased, and his dancing lights disappeared as if to accentuate the darkness.
 
A brief scene of pure dark, the hurried sounds of thousands of predators around them, chasing them with murderous intent. His complete loss of direction as he fell and could see nothing, a sharp pain...the scratches against walls to reach him until flame erupted and chased them away. Aera Oos standing over him, it’s silhouette just made out in blurred vision.
 
“This place, it forces you to be a warrior or a victim, hunter or prey. Nothing else can exist.” The children listening hid behind their sleeves in fear.
“Even so, the City of Shaalva was a wonder like no other. Built in the corpse of a dead, ancient dragon. It’s wound still bleeds with phosphorescent ichor, slain millennia ago by none other than the Herbwarden Ramowa. We made our way through the silence of a dead city that was very much alive. Imagine if you would dare to do so, empty shops and homes, stores abandoned as if all had just up and left. A city in perfect condition, preserved by time, as if they had only stepped out recently.” Jazbet took a moment of silence, dipping his finger into his beer before finishing the mug and wiping his face.
 
“We reached the Tower of Silence...the size of a grand cathedral, our gnomish companion promised to teleport us once we had found what we sought. Alas, our good intention was repaid with betrayal. He had secretly sought an artifact of great power, ensorcelled in Eldritch energy and a pool of radiant light, a seemingly simple staff lay ahead.”
 
“‘Stop!’ I shouted, sensing something was amiss. Sure enough, the coward teleported away before tossing an infernal contraption which summoned a stone demon, the size of a giant. At least twenty feet, and much wider still with wings and a cruel staff the size of a house.”
 
And that was enough truth.
 
The Half Elf’s hands whirled in motion yet again and four spheres of light coalesced into existence, swirling around the party and producing small silhouettes of light in the vague shape of the demon and his companions.
“The demon struck quick and struck true, its staff crashing into me as I leapt in front of my companions, taking the brunt of a blow that would have slayed lesser men. The mighty Logreth, the forgotten ran ahead no weapon in sight and struck a flurry blows to the beast, as Ezriel raged with his mighty axe, blow after blow against the stone. The Dragonborn and Aaracockra attacked the cracks that our half giant companion left, and with it they struck at the infernal flesh that lay beneath. The beast echoed cries of pain in our heads, but on we continued. Gwendolyn, a mightier Wizard you never did see enchanted a javelin with the True Name of the Demon, and in one mighty bound Ezriel leapt and threw his javelin straight through the beast’s chest.” The collective gasps of the commoners knew his work was done.
 
Jazbet stood up, wincing at the pain of his freshly binded wounds. Gwyn promised his body would feel like brand new soon...but it felt like anything but. To be honest he was unsure if his friend really was a magical initiate of some kind, that he was learned was beyond doubt...but his magic worked far more differently than his own. Jazbet was however, very grateful to have someone with the knowledge and expertise to utilize such advanced magics.
 
“Take this coin,” He said gesturing to the tips they had left at the table,”and ensure that no ones cup lay empty for long, these stories you bring back with you sound poorer to dry throats.” And with hearty laughs and hurrahs, they did so.
 
Jazbet eased against the bar with his companions.
 
“Well with any luck, our legend grows.” He said through a warm grin.