Cushions and chairs were set in a half circle round the big fireplace, fresh logs placed on the fire, damped down with snow soaked herbs to give a sweet aroma to the air. Children and some adults took a seat. An elderly man was installed in a carved highback chair. The audience settled down, watching the man eagerly.
“Today as I walked in this beautiful castle, I saw a tapestry,” The elder began. “I immediately recognized the man pictured there, Daeron Stongbow. As I understand it he is the guiding spirit of this place as well as one of its founders. Do you know much about him?”
The scribe sighed, shaking his head slow. “Daeron has always been here to guide us in times of trouble. We know too little of our Elven warrior. I dearly wish we knew more.”
A faint smile hovered about the face of the elder. He leaned forward and looked at the audience sitting in the flickering firelight.
“Then you shall, for I have a long and great tale to relate to you…”
After nearly a day’s climb Daeron reached a terrace in the face of the mountain where an old castle stood, carved into the stone itself. He often came to this place for weeks at a time to relax away from his social duties and hunt game, maybe read some of the ancient texts. 'It will be good to relax for a time', He thought to himself,' after all, the realm is at peace, I might even go an-' At that moment he noticed two men- no, soldiers talking in front of the castle keep. They wore black garments with silver and red armor and a black beret rested cockeyed upon their heads. They both carried a tall axe in one hand and a sword across their backs.
"We might be able to fortify this position before the siege, Methinks." The taller of the two said, admiring the castle.
"It'll do for wot my lord intends, go ye now to tha encampment and send word ta my liege, I shall terry hence and my presence shall go undetected." The second almost spat.
The first man outstretched his hand and they shook farewell,"I go, friend."
"Aye, godspeed Polonius." The first man departed and the second began to set up camp. Daeron chose this most opportune moment to step boldly forward saying,"Prithee, what business have ye in these parts stranger?"
The soldier spun on his heels, obviously surprised at his discovery. “None of yer concern, stranger. But in seeing you present I find it ill to bid thee leave as there is a danger in it if thou wouldst but reveal my whereabouts, sir. And regarding my task for which I am sent in relation to thine own country and patriotism,One conclusion can be drawn and it be that thou deserve a chance at me quick."
Daeron drew his blade,"With such a noble heart as to reason thus far, it seems a shame that I should have to relieve you of your earthly duty."
The soldier leveled his axe and charged. Daeron caught his sword intentionally in the soldier's axe, causing the soldier to nick his own arm and so drop his weapon. But the soldier was quick to draw his own sword and flung himself once more at his new enemy. He thrust his sword upward aiming for Daeron's exposed chest. They parried for a moment before Daeron feinted and slashed the soldier's shoulder. The soldier screamed in pain and anger. He advanced faster and more vigorously. The two blades clashed, the sound resounding in the mountain wind. They parried once more and the soldier offered an empty fade, gashing through Daeron's left leg. Falling in pain he was left at the mercy of the soldier who lifted his sword and thrust down with all his strength, but Daeron rolled over. Reaching his bow he bought himself some time by landing an arrow deep into the soldier's arm. He got up with some difficulty and ran back, propelling himself from a nearby rock. Then thrusting his sword forward and down.
A moment later he lay upon his dead opponent, half his sword buried in the soldier’s torso. Gritting his teeth, he wrenched the sword from the wound, a spurt of blood following the cold steel. He used the soldier’s garments to wipe his blade clean and in doing so, took note of the symbol which made up his chest plate. It was a black and red dragon, the symbol of Rainos.
“What’s a Rainosian soldier doing in Nerogue?”He said half to himself. He had heard stories of a Rainosian fleet landing in Mythron, but what quarrel had they with Nerogue? Indeed the leaders of Rainos had picked a ripe time for such an invasion, with The Mythronian king Sadon away in Enalica,the people of Mythron will have no leadership to look to.
It was getting to be evening now and he decided that after a long day such as this, he’d put any investigations off until tomorrow. He entered the castle and trekked through the corridors until he came across the infirmary where he gathered a selection of herbs, bandages and the such and laid himself down in one of the nearly ancient cots. The infirmiry was rather large, with it's roof arching three stories up and windows in that Mythronian style that formed the entire fortress. It was a kind of architecture that, old and decayed as it may have been now, still held the grandeur and authoritative respect of the golden age of Mythron. Using the materials he had gathered and his elven healing skills, he was able to repair the damages done to his mortal shell. Even with the wounds healed, Daeron was still in some pain, but not enough to prohibit any movement. This being the case, he made his way to his own room, Which was primarily occupied by artifacts and memorabilia from past adventures. His bed sat to the right of the door and his wardrobe next to it, to the left was a grand window with a center piece made from an ordinary looking table. It was a night to rest, 'I shall follow the trail of the one called Polonius at daybreak' He determined as he lay down.