In the small village of Naerfall lives a bard of great renown, whose works are celebrated across the land. With unmatched beauty and charisma, adventurers from far away travel to have their stories told. His name like a legend across the lands of Nhoire, Challin Seetle the Mystic Beard.

Yes, that is I or he is me, the Mystic Beard. Apologies for the overzealous introduction but I am a bard by trade and it was nothing more than a “slight” embellishment. Nothing like the lawyers and nobles living in the capital of Nhoire, their gross exaggerations are borderline criminal. Enough said about them, this is my story!

I grew up in the small village of Naerfall, I know I already said that, listening to the stories of my father. My father was a great mage and his exploits needed no embellishment, he reached the rank of advisor to the King of Nhoire. However some were not happy about his appointment to this position and conspired against him. You see, there were many nobles who used the King’s treasury to feed their own appetites. When my father brought this to the King’s attention, the King was not happy and took action against the nobles; however they were ready and used the King’s own treasure to fund a coup. The next day both the King and my father disappeared from Nhoire and from the history books. The nobles took control and appointed a puppet to the throne, a king who doesn’t even deserve capitalization.

I digress. The stories I was told by my father awoke something within me, an appetite for adventure and exploration. Well to be fair it awoke a desire to share stories of adventure. When I was younger I would draw crowds by sharing slightly embellished versions of my father’s adventures and loved inspiring others…okay I admit it, I loved the attention. I would spend all day reciting stories, poems, and songs to anyone who would listen and the embellishments got greater and more farfetched until finally it came back to bite me. Maybe I went a little too far but I did try and stay as close to the source material as possible. Needless to say when the King and my father disappeared no one took me seriously and I was even accused of making the story up. It wasn’t until weeks later that the news of the King falling ill and dying reached Naerfall and how my father abandoned him.

It was my word against theirs and the village would not listen to the truth. I was rebuked for trying to sow contempt and disowned by the village. Around this time a man came to town carrying a lute and a overstuffed pack on his back. This man, Fealon, drank and sang the night away in the village square. He sang songs of women, warriors and even women warriors. As the night went on there was one song that rekindled the fire within, he sang of a man with royal blood and his companion a mage.

Let me share a story, which may sound tragic
Of two men, one a royal and the other magic
On the road to Fyor, they walk at night
Hiding in the shadows, keeping out of sight
As I approached them, I could see their eyes
A troubled past of betrayal, death, and lies
I shared a meal and asked their names
The royal named Brahn and the mage named Haimes
Their lives torn from them, on the brink of insanity
One lost his Kingdom and the other his family

I sat there wide eyed and began looking around at the villagers, this was the moment! They had to know that I was telling the truth; however no one seemed phased by the song. I on the other hand knew it was a sign, that had to be my father. Now before I go on I must admit my father’s name was Ghine, not Haimes, but I knew that this man sang of my father.

Long story a little less long, I traveled with this man for five years hoping that one day I would be reunited with my father. Unfortunately this never happened and one fateful day we returned to Naerfall. Upon entering the village it was completely different than when I had left, the over taxation by the nobles had taken it’s toll. We set down our packs in village square and started to play when we were stopped by a man dressed in the finest of attire, his nose pointing up.

“You men are bards?” and Faelon nodded “Then you are under arrest.”
I guess being a bard without a home meant that we were not paying sufficient taxes and he would make an example of us. As he drew closer the sun now shone upon his face and I recognized him immediately. It was one of the nobles that arranged the coup. Without hesitation I took a step back and started to sing.

What price will you take, in gold or in silver
You cup overflows yet you do not slumber
You worry that thieves in the night will come
And do to you, what you have done
Or your so called friends will turn
Into fiends who pillage and burn
Dressing up to look like heirs
Taking back what was never theirs

Not my best work but it did catch him off guard. He looked at me and then around and then back at me. It was obvious now that the entire village had shown up for my debut and the noble was scared. In that moment everything happened all at once; the crowd cheered, the noble slipped away, and Faelon handed me my first lute. I wish I could say that the lute was my highlight but hearing the crowd cheer filled me with such adrenaline that I played and sang the whole night long.

After exposing the true nature of the nobles I was welcomed back into my home town and very seldom does anyone come by to collect taxes. As for me I still search out and share stories of adventurers and explorers, in hopes that one day I may hear more of Brahn and Haimes.