S1E2 - A Night to Remember

The sounds of merriment were deafening outside the small oak room. The bloodwood table was smooth to the touch, a deep coat of linseed oil mixed with peppermint rubbed into her finger gently as she stroked it. She looked at herself in the mirror. A smile crept across her face. “It feels like a full house…” She looked back at the small dish of peach-colored powder and the small horsehair brush in her hand. Smiling she dabbed at it quickly and briskly applied it to her cheeks, bringing out the soft contours of her cheekbones under her bold eyes.

There was a knock at the door.
“Come in!”
A joyful face peeked in at the door handle’s height, it was Avar the Tavern’s owner. “My don’t you look splendid! We are almost ready to receive you my shining star though everyone will be blinded by your beauty! Only your sweet music will save us from being lost forever!” He twirled and clasped his hands together barely able to contain his excitement. “Are you excited?”
“Yes!”
“Well this my dear is a magnificent evening! The ale is bold, the wine is sweet, the cookies and pastries are all lavish and not one person is in a foul mood! Ah yes! I almost forgot, “ he reached in his pocket, “this is for you. You look like a queen, AND you need to be paid as a queen.” he handed her a small bag of gold tied with a small golden dragon for a broach.
“Oh Avar, thank you.”
“My dear I should thank you. Since you’ve come to work for me my place is so wonderful and cheery. What we all need in these rough times.” He became a bit somber. “I know it won’t last forever. But this establishment will enjoy you while you are here.”
She smiled and put her hand gently on his shoulder. “Avar. I have no intention on leaving I…”
“Hush child,” he said brushing under his eye briefly giving her a reassuring smile. “You are young and Port L’For is not the place to build a life. We are survivors here you and I. You are too much of a star. I want you back in the sky from which you fell.” He paused thinking of something far away as he took her hands in his. With a smile and a squeeze he said. “Wherever that is, promise me you will find it.” She smiled knowing her little friend's big giving heart wouldn’t let her leave until she agreed.
“Alright, I promise.”
He nodded as she rose to leave a big grin on his face as he reached into his pocket producing a small vial of yellow liquid. He took off the crystal topper and dropped a few drops in the palm of his hand. As he gently slapped his rosy powdered cheeks with it, the smell of Pine and honey came to her nose pleasantly. He smiled at her and offered his hand with a bow.
Mustering up his pride and joviality he proclaimed to her.
“Cordelia Shieldheart , muse of Port L'For please come with me! For tonight is a..”
“A night to remember!” Cordelia and Avar laughed as they left the dressing room hand in hand.

The smell of sweet spiced wine, frothy ale, and even a slight tinge of pungent pipe smoke filled the air. The ladyfingers cookies had been taken almost as fast as they had sent them down on the long table used for the potluck of dishes brought in for the celebration.

Tonight was the first night of the annual 3 day festival in Port L’For marking the beginning of the trade season with the north. Half of the year the waters only allowed trade with what the sailors called “The Southlands ”. Though separated by continents and cultures the regions of Viridian and Trull actively traded year round with the region of Kur where Port L’For resided.
Preferring to use Kur as middle-ground for trade, as they were neutral in most wars that sprouted up from time to time. The Elves of Viridian and the Orcs and men of Trull were always looking for the fine smithed goods of the Dwarves , whether golden vases with gemstones encrusting the surface making the light dance in a room or the dwarven-steel sword that rarely needed to be sharpened. In return, the people of Kur had to look to them for food and fineries the harsh desert couldn’t provide.
But only during the warmer months did the majority of the heavy merchant ships make those trips north. After the ice had broke, the sea had calmed and so did the creatures beneath its dark waves. This was when the furs, oils, and gems of the north could be traded. The artisans of all countries looked forward to this time as many of their goods depended on this for their own trade.
The tavern was bursting at the seams, shoulder to shoulder people stood waiting in anticipation for a seat to open. A short man with bushy eyebrows looked and spied an empty seat at a table with 3 other people. He moved through the crowd towards it. He reached for the chair.
“Taken friend.” the young raven-haired man spoke to him.

The little man sighed and walked away almost bumping into a tall woman with golden hair in a reddish suit of scale mail carrying four mugs in her hands.
“Excuse me!”

The woman shouted at the little man as he darted into the crowd. With a sigh, she continued to her table.
“That bar was packed. No way the barmaids can get to us right now. We are on our own.” Sophie sat down the mugs and began passing them out. “There we are Elloveve . Wine for you and I, ale for you Zorin and…”
“Milk?” Benedict said questioningly.
Sophie smiled “Yes, only the finest year of course.”
He smiled and took it from her with both hands offering a gentle nod of appreciation.
“Thank you, Sophie,” Elloveve said elbowing Zorin in the ribs.

“*cough/sputter* uh-er indeed! Thank you!” Sophie chuckled with Zorin.

“Oi! Watch where you’re goin!’” Benedict noticed the Minotaur protest as 2 thugs pushed past to sit at a dimly lit table back in the dark corner of the bar. They had dark cloaks and hoods covering themselves, which looked to be made of rough wool. They roughly shoved a terrified man into a seat and sat to either side of him. His wide eyes seemed to dark back and forth from behind the dirty, unwashed face. His thin scraggly beard framed the gaunt and wiry features of the man as he trembled. He was dressed in dark black armor that hung loosely from his body barely finding anything to hold onto. Benedict could feel his hair stand on end.
He started to turn a hand back to the table without taking his eyes off them. “Hey, Zorin do you see…”
*entrance music*
Avar stepped out onto the oak stage. Towering over the crowd he rapped a cane topped with a lion’s head on planking echoing through the room. The crowd grew silent.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Port L’For! Tonight we celebrate together the new season, and together may The Stone judge us to be worthy of great riches!” The crowd erupted in cheers.
He looked at the crowd and smiled. Stretching out his arms embracing the cheers and soaking the energy in.
Benedict was staring at the dark men. They were motionless, the terrified man looking like he was about to cry.
“My friends, she is no stranger nor is she a stranger to you. Without further adieu please welcome the Muse of Port L’For, Cordelia!”
The crowd cheered for the local favorite. Benedict noticed the smaller of the 2 cloaked men turn towards the stage sharply. After a moment his shrouded head turned side to side scanning the area.
3 other musicians had taken the stage flanking Cordelia they each nodded and smiled before the tavern went deathly quiet. They could hear her breath as she raised the ivory flute to her lips, a small carved dragon dangling from her wrist.

There were 3 ships
In the southern sea
Filled with love
For you and me
Silks so fine
Gold and wine

The bar erupted with cheers as Cordelia bowed her head. The other musicians smiled and applauded her as well.
They launched into an upbeat melody and the room began dancing. Zorin leapt up and slammed his empty mug on the table. With his usual flair, he offered his hand to Sophie. She laughed and waved him away. “Well fine then!” he grinned and then bowing began to join a few sailors in a rowdy hornpipe dance. Sophie and Elloveve cheered.
Benedict was staring at the dark men. One roughly grabbed the terrified man and jerked him out of his seat roughly. The other nodded as they made their way out of the bar.
He tried to get the attention of his friends, but he found it hopeless. Benedict, though someone who followed a moral code of honor, wasn’t a stranger to the occasional bar brawl, and had a few scars marring the 20-year old’s young face. Action being imperative he rose up and followed them outside into the street.

The market square was 100 feet on all four sides with a fountain of grey stone in the center of the smooth river rock cobblestones. The fountain was depicting a Lion and a Bear facing east and west respectively. People were still making their way to the Pig and Turtle. It was the biggest tavern and was known for the best entertainment. Other shops lined the open square, and people strolled through making their way to various destinations.
“Stop fighting it and just tell us. When?!”
Benedict saw at the end of the building he had just walked from there were the two men, one gripping the collar of the small man and roughly interrogating him.
“You there!” Benedict started to jog to the men his hand resting on the brass pommel of the Broadsword at his hip.
They jolted looking at him obviously startled. The Small man broke free of the grip and ran down the dark alley chased by the larger man. The third man, the smaller of the cloaked figures stood up straight and shook his head looking very annoyed. He turned and ran across the market. Benedict recognized the tactic and knew him to be the one with the answers. Sprinting through the street the man lept over a small cart and pulled a stack of apple crates down to separate his pursuer. Benedict dodged around them deftly and continued to sprint the broadsword clanking at his side. He noticed the man was not hindered by a sword.
The man dodged into a clothing shop and as Benedict neared the entrance he quickly unhooked his sword belt where it clanged to the steps just outside the door.
“Move!” he shouted at the terrified shopkeep who dodged backward into a pile of soft linens for sale. The dark man spun around just in time to catch a fist across his right cheek and a shoulder into his chest pressing him to the wall. Benedict could smell trail dust and the musk of a man that had been on horseback for a long time.
“Wait! You don’t understand!” The voice sputtered out of breath from behind a dark veil his blue eyes determined.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” Benedict gritted his teeth. “What were you doing… With that man?”
The shrouded man grabbed Benedict's arm his dark sleeve falling back. Benedict’s eyes grew wide.
“Listen. We’ve traveled a long way to warn this town and don’t have time to explain. Something horrible is about to happen and that man had the details as to when.”
Benedict was staring at the man’s arm. Trembling. “It can’t be…”
“What?”
Benedict nodded with a tremble still not letting down his guard.
“Where did you get that scar?”
“That has nothi…”
“WHERE?!”
“I…” The man sighed and looked around judging his options. Realizing the best one lay in front of him he took off the dark veil, revealing a short few weeks old soft blonde beard, and pulling his hood back the sandy blonde locks fell across his cheeks. “I saved my brother from a fire many years ago.”
Tears welled in Benedict's eyes. “Zane? Is it? Is it really you?…”
The man’s eyes welled up. Years of solitary pain and hope boiling to the surface along with his tears.
“Benedict?”
The long lost brothers embraced in that shop
“I thought we lost you…”

“I did too honestly, and it's a story I promise to tell you soon but we need to…”
Screams erupted from the square as flashing fire illuminated the terrified shop keep’s face.
“We need to go!”
Bolting out the door Benedict grabbed his sword from the ground, the red glow of erupting fire casting eerily familiar upon the dark leather scabbard. Looking up from the damp cobblestone he saw them.

He saw the dragons.

|CAST|

| Sophie - Sarah Jenkins
| Cordelia Shieldheart - Joleen Fresquez
| Benedict Shieldheart - Brian Dowling
| Zorin - Cody Miller
| Zane Shieldheart - Storm S Cone
| Elloveve Hawklight - Jessica Atchley
| Minotaur - Matthew Bianchi
| Avar - Adam Gilles Kidjoaka
| NARRATOR - Mike Atchley
All Music/Production by Mike Atchley