Once upon a time, a group of adventurers were camping in a wooded clearing. In a world filled with mystery and danger this was one of their very rare quiet and peaceful nights. They had just vanquished a terrifying undead army and had sent two of their members to Clifton to seek out answers. While they were gone there was little more to do then take in the soft western wind, smell the faint cherry blossoms in the distance, and ignore the soft hissing of the 50-ft bird monster still staring at them from its nearby nest with murder in its eyes. Yes, all was very peaceful indeed.
The Bard rested his head upon a pile of ladies undergarments he had received from his last performance. He was taking this time to construct his newest ballad, though he was having trouble deciding what rhymed with magnificent. “Don’t applaud too hard or you’ll pull a ligament?” Hmm, he thought, he liked the spirit but it probably could use more polish. He was preparing a second verse when he heard a voice in his head.
“Is that the strumming of my lute I hear?”
“Wilo!” The Bard had heard this voice before. This was the fiend that kidnapped and attempted to immolate his parents. Worse yet, he claimed that The Bard’s mystic Lute would be his one day!
“It’s actually ‘Reed’, and I told you we had unfinished business. You’ve been a busy person, teleporting from one land to another, but it seems you’ve finally settled down on Academy Island. That’s a fine location. Come find me at the Dragon’s Hearth Inn in three days and we will finally resolve this… impasse.”
The voice faded from The Bard’s head but his blood was only beginning to boil. How dare this impostor seek to undermine the will of the gods, they who blessed The Bard with his Lute in the first place! Well, The Bard would accept this challenge. No one would take what was his, take the only thing that made him special! He would NOT go back to being a nobody!
Before he could process this new information he saw a streak of light in the distance. Was someone fighting? Reaching for the trusty Lute, he suddenly felt a burning sensation shoot through his shoulder. This burning was attached to a pair of teeth, teeth that were themselves attached to his best friend and lover. He couldn’t remember her name or even if they had met before, but this woman was clearly no threat and certainly had a good reason for her sudden snack.
The woman smiled sweetly at The Bard. “Come this way my dear. Your friends have been possessed and they need you to subdue them.” The pair rushed to the fighting taking place in the nearby clearing. Of course he would always listen to whatever Whatsherface had to say, though — and he couldn’t put his finger on it — this whole event did feel somewhat off.
Deeper in the woods, the druid stared blankly as the archer, warlock, and metal man swung through the trees throwing spells and arrows at pursuing figures in black. What an odd spectacle, she thought, why can’t my friends ever just get along. Oow, did the archer just put three arrows in my good friend So-and-so’s stomach? The druid prepared a healing spell. “I’ll get her patched up, but then I’m putting an end to this…”
The Bard reached the clearing just in time to see the very grass rise up and block the fighters from view. OK, this was getting too bizarre. In the past he had decided that, at times like this, the best way to set things right was a simple song. The typical effects of his playing began immediately. Men began weeping, women began ovulating, and woodland creatures lined up to give him high-fives. What was less typical was the confusion that had plagued the heroes began to fade as slowly they realized these friends were not friends, but fiends! Only dastardly vampires (and orc queens, though that’s another story) would be so bold as to mind control others and force them to fight their friends!
With the haze gone, the vampires felt the full might of the adventurers and one by one they fell before the onslaught. Just as the last vampire fell, the sound of a splitting tree filled the air. Suddenly, where there was once a tree, now stood a portal. And from this portal the druids of the nature school filed out one-by-one. They must have heard of the calamity facing these woods and came to help! While fashionably late, it was still nice to see friendly faces. The adventuring party’s druid in particular found one face very friendly. Could this be her good friend Symorel? They approached and explained that, yes, they could help these woods. They would start with the roc (who was extremely unhelpful during the vampire fight) and make sure she got to safety. It might also be possible to bring the deceased Salendra back to life, though only time would tell. With this new information the group decided to obtain a few hours of sleep while they could. They would tell the Boss and monk of these developments tomorrow.
In the morning, the Boss and the monk crossed the vast plains just outside Clifton. They were close now and the Boss’s thoughts turned to his all but certain meeting with his good friend Karl. He wondered what kind of shape he would find his friend in. They had a friendly history but it had been many years since they had last met and according to Karl’s wife, he was less the helpful friend the Boss remembered and was now more… erratic.
It wasn’t long before they entered the familiar town. The markets still bustled, the sun glittered off the impressive roof of the Tippy Top, and what’s more, there was not a zombie in sight.
The duo traversed the city to Karl’s home. On the doorstep they were greeted by the faithful butler. When the front door opened, before the butler could even offer his deadpan greeting, the two could hear shuffling and loud voices coming from up the stairs. Fearing the worst, they raced up to the next floor and entered the master bedroom. Inside they did not find a tortured man, but instead discovered their good friend, Karl. He may have been a tad bit more scraggly than what they remembered, but not too worse for wear.
He was currently overturning books and emptying cabinets with his uncle William at a terrifying rate but stopped when he saw the pair. A grim, weathered face soon turned to relief when he finally saw who had come to visit.
“Kaicho,” Karl exclaimed, “it has been too long. What I would give for us to have some drinks and catch up like old times, but…” Karl’s smile vanished almost as fast as it had arrived. “But now is not the time. Dear friend, I do apologize, but the very world is at stake and I fear that I am the only one who knows how to stop it. You see, a great undead army is rising and I must…”
The monk chimed in. “Them zombies? Yeah, we’ve fought loads of them. Them and their ‘Devouring Eye’ will probably kill us all.”
Karl looked up, mouth agape. “You mean to say you know of this evil? And have already dealt blows against it?! I must say, you lot are more powerful then I thought.”
“Well, not us alone. We have The Bard with us!”
“Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Karl mused. “You know, you might be just the allies we need going forward. As I was saying, William and I are going deep into the northern mountains where legends tell of a large ice cave, guarded by frost giants. In the cave lies a terrible white dragon. If one can manage to avoid the two-hundred ways such a trip could kill you, one could theoretically get access to the dragon’s treasure! But it’s no ordinary treasure. It contains the means for casting a fabled Wish spell! A spell with the ability to do ANYTHING! This is the tool we need to prevent the end of the world!”
The Boss looked at Karl with disapproval. “And you think the dragon will just give you his most impressive treasure?”
Karl smirked. “It’s likely he doesn’t even know what he has. Dragons are more concerned with quantity over quality. But yes, the dragon might demand a trade, and I think I have just the thing… somewhere… aha, here it is!
Karl presented a ring he had managed to find among the mess. “This family ring goes back generations. It is perhaps the most valuable thing in this house, including the house! It grants invisibility to the wearer. With the strength of you and your allies to see us into the creature’s lair, and with this trinket and a small fortune in coin to barter, I say our chance of success has just increased ten-fold!”
The Boss looked at the monk and shrugged. “We’ve faced worse odds before.”
“And that,” The Bard said, “is where we can meet them.”
The Bard had just finished his telepathic chat with the Boss and the monk, and was now relaying to his companions the plan to escort Karl through the mountains. If they left now, they could all meet up at the Occult Research Society and be ready to depart before the sun set. The rest of the journey, of course, would take much longer, likely several days.
The druid looked down at The Bard. “A Wish spell might be our best chance of stopping this evil before it consumes any more lives, but… are you OK with delaying your destiny with Reed?”
The Bard wanted his companions to understand that being chosen to wield the Lute was everything he’d ever wanted for himself, confirmation that he was special, and that he had to stop Reed. If he failed to prevent him from taking the Lute, The Bard would go back to feeling small and meek again, a fate worse then death! But conveying this would betray fear and weakness, and these were not the hallmarks of a magnificent hero.
The Bard puffed his chest out and put on his biggest smile. “Bah, Reed’s treachery is no concern to me. His deception can wait until after we’ve saved the world!”
And so off they went.
It took some time but the heroes finally reunited in front of the mighty doors of the Occult Research Society. This would be a harrowing journey but they were each prepared to undertake it. The end of this nightmare was finally in their grasp!
The warlock sighed, “When this is all over, the first thing I look forward to doing is getting rid of these damned tattoos.”
Karl couldn’t help but overhear. “Tattoos you say?”
“Er, yes, they appeared not too long ago. Here, on our backs.” The warlock pulled his collar down to show the curious Karl the markings that ran down his back.
Karl looked at the tattoos for a long moment. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he shot to his feet and excitedly pointed behind the heroes. “Over there, is that… yes! It’s Titania, the Triple-Breasted Hooker from the Hills of Echelon!”
The group enthusiastically turned to look for the lusty legend (all but the druid who was too distracted by a beetle that had been crawling on a large blade of grass) but try as they might, the group could not see any maiden, only empty landscape. In fact, when their gaze took them back to Karl and William they once again saw naught but an empty landscape. Though, in the distance, they could just make out their fading forms, shooting into the wilderness.
“Hmm,” muttered the warlock, “I guess I shouldn’t have brought up the tattoos.”
The monk had just finished applying cologne to the upper half of his body, “Oh… does that mean Titania is going to be late?”
Countdown to the end of the world: 13-14 days