“ nugget number 2. I discovered through exhaustive means that the Baktiri tribe of goblins apparently worship the storm giant ancestors, believing themselves to somehow being children of the massive people. They create these amazingly wonderful looking “ war” masks that are very popular collectors items for those able to get them. They have one created by. Shaman long ago that might hold the key to the graves location. I hired some adventurers to seek it out and retrieve it for me several weeks ago, but they never returned, so I assumed they became food for some jungle beasty” he finishes his statement then downs another giant glass of beer, which again refills. The alcohol, which in this amount would render most men unconscious, seems to not affect him in the least.
You notice the crowd seems to have settle down a bit as the Bards music soothes them. They are deeply enthralled by his playing. As his first song finishes he announces in his rough bugbear voice his next song will be his most famous piece. The “ Ballad of Burgle the Bugbear Bard…” at this, the crowds erupts in cheers, whistles and clapping.
” Oh, this is my favorite of all time, you are in for a real treat. My last piece of information is the most likely location is among a scattering of small Islands off the eastern coast. They are not marked on the maps due to their small size. Unfortunately there are literally thousands of them and it could take years to search them all. That is why the mask would have been such an important aid..ok, he we go..”
the music begins softly as before, the bard begins to sing in a shockingly beautiful and gentle voice…the image is sort of absurd in its contrast. Immediately the whole tavern becomes silent. Clearly moved by the songs tale of heartbreak and misery as he relates his terrible childhood. The song starts to pick up in tempo as he departs his village, the feeling of excitement, adventure and most of all hope for the future permeates the song. His slick voice takes on a rougher edge as the tempo continues to increase. Suddenly he stops singing and stops playing, allowing that last chord to linger in the silence for a moment. He holds his right hand high in the air, suspended before the next stroke, looks directly into the crowd and brings the hand down , hard across the strings. You see the strings glow with energy as the harsh, but invigorating sounds pours from the instrument. Louder than possible for a lute and his voices joins, equally loud, harsh and guttural. At first it seems pretty horrible to you, but then your body can feel the surge of energy, excitement and power.
The crowd erupts into cheers, hands held in the air, shaking their heads in time with the sounds. Even Volo stands up to jam…just when you think the entire tavern will explode from the energy, the bards voice returns to the soft, beautiful tones of earlier, but with a sound that invokes a happy feeling and the lute ceases its glow and the tones again smooth the savage beast that is the crowd. It was probably the most amazing thing any of you have ever heard and the crowd showered the stage with coins.
Sparhawk erupts in applause as the ale hits him, finally able to relax after such a horrible survival stint in the deadly jungle his friends and the loss of friends, his responsibility. “and Zalkore? What was her story?”
“ The Queen Zalkore ruled many centuries ago. It was said her beauty was unmatched, on this plane or any other. Her lover, the commander of the Armies named Thiru-taya, loved her so much he had a wonderous garden built for her. Statues and carvings to try and capture the different aspects of her beautiful visiage and all of her most favored plants, flowers and creatures. The garden was called “ Ka-Nanji” or the hanging garden of dreams. Ka-Nanji was a palatial retreat from the intrigues and pressures of Omu, and the beautiful, tiered garden was praised as a worthy tribute to the queen. But, as people are won’t to do, the constant flattery seeped into her soul, like a poison of sorts. As she realized time would eventually destroy her beauty, as it does all things, she went on a secret quest you meet with a being that could possibly preserve her beauty for all time.” He sits back down and drains his cup once again.
Obviously loving telling tales, he gets right back into it.
” the being apparently granted her desire in some sort of exchange that has been lost to time as has the knowledge of what being she colluded with. It was an evil enough dead that When knowledge of her evil bargain spread through the realm, the army forced Zalkoré to abdicate and exiled her to Ka-Nanji, which became known ever after as Nangalore, the Garden of Lost Dreams. Believing that Thiru-taya was among the generals who exiled her, Zalkoré defaced all the statues and portraits of him in Nangalore. Many years later, She learned he had stayed true to her all his life, through decades of imprisonment and disgrace in Omu, only when his ashes were brought to the garden for interment, as was his dying wish. It is said she still lives in Nangalore, somehow protected from disease and time. Supposedly, Zalkoré cultivates hallucinogenic plants in the garden, because only in their narcotic, lotus dreams can she conjure up the face of her dead love. There is an incense that comes from there called Zalkores dream. It is worth a small fortune to anyone that get their hands on some. Very potent stuff.”
"What a show! One wonders how he learned to play like that, though perhaps not enough to, ah, ask. Bad experiences with bugbears..."
Bjorn nods along as Volo describes Zalkore and her garden. "Hm. Well, one man's small fortune is another man's, uh..." He gestures vaguely, as one might swirl a glass of wine. "Anyway. Sounds like a scary person to meet if you ask me. Supposing we came across the hanging garden, I'd say we would be wise to leave before opening any large, lizard-shaped doors. Purely hypothetically, of course." It's pretty clear he feels outshined by Volo's wide knowledge and wants to make the storyteller jealous by suggesting he's seen the fabled garden.
“So Volo, in looking for this storm giants skull, are we going to upset any other storm giants, as we are digging up their ancestor and all or have we their permission?”
Sparhawk thinks for a bit, perhaps considering g what to say next.
”and, once we find this thing, what’s our next move?”
“So Volo, in looking for this storm giants skull, are we going to upset any other storm giants, as we are digging up their ancestor and all or have we their permission?”
Sparhawk thinks for a bit, perhaps considering g what to say next.
”and, once we find this thing, what’s our next move?”
Volothamp almost spills his drink before responding
“ Storms Giants are always upset at something, I am certain it is how they came to be Storm giants to begin with. It is best not to find out if they would be upset…better to ask forgiveness than permission, I would say…the getting it out of there might be a bigger challenge than finding it. Hard to know until we see just how massive it truly is. It is all very exciting”
“ I think the mighty Zaal would know a little more than myself in that regard as I believe they just got out of there in the nick of time. I try and avoid tower wizards…they are still a bit sore about my book, heh heh”
"What a show! One wonders how he learned to play like that, though perhaps not enough to, ah, ask. Bad experiences with bugbears..."
Bjorn nods along as Volo describes Zalkore and her garden. "Hm. Well, one man's small fortune is another man's, uh..." He gestures vaguely, as one might swirl a glass of wine. "Anyway. Sounds like a scary person to meet if you ask me. Supposing we came across the hanging garden, I'd say we would be wise to leave before opening any large, lizard-shaped doors. Purely hypothetically, of course." It's pretty clear he feels outshined by Volo's wide knowledge and wants to make the storyteller jealous by suggesting he's seen the fabled garden.
“ wise to leave the garden be, yet wisdom can sometimes be on the boring side…don’t you agree?” He smiles broadly at Bjorn, knowing for sure he is not some form of himself split off during one of his tortures during capitiviy
“Interesting advice. Do something wrong and ask for forgiveness if you get caught.” Sparhawk frowns.
“Volo, the Baron had a way to allow us to send messages. We have some business to conclude with a wizard of the tower, is there a way to send them a message? It’s important.”
Volothamp pauses to take a drink, downing his entire pitcher like mug in one go. The mug then immediately refills itself, ready for action.
Sparhawk relaxes as the man speaks candidly.
He takes a long drink and replies
”friend.”
“”Bjorn might spend his whole savings to learn that spell Volo.”
without revealing that they may have stumbled on this womens home,
”and the other two locations?”
“ nugget number 2. I discovered through exhaustive means that the Baktiri tribe of goblins apparently worship the storm giant ancestors, believing themselves to somehow being children of the massive people. They create these amazingly wonderful looking “ war” masks that are very popular collectors items for those able to get them. They have one created by. Shaman long ago that might hold the key to the graves location. I hired some adventurers to seek it out and retrieve it for me several weeks ago, but they never returned, so I assumed they became food for some jungle beasty” he finishes his statement then downs another giant glass of beer, which again refills. The alcohol, which in this amount would render most men unconscious, seems to not affect him in the least.
You notice the crowd seems to have settle down a bit as the Bards music soothes them. They are deeply enthralled by his playing. As his first song finishes he announces in his rough bugbear voice his next song will be his most famous piece. The “ Ballad of Burgle the Bugbear Bard…” at this, the crowds erupts in cheers, whistles and clapping.
” Oh, this is my favorite of all time, you are in for a real treat. My last piece of information is the most likely location is among a scattering of small Islands off the eastern coast. They are not marked on the maps due to their small size. Unfortunately there are literally thousands of them and it could take years to search them all. That is why the mask would have been such an important aid..ok, he we go..”
the music begins softly as before, the bard begins to sing in a shockingly beautiful and gentle voice…the image is sort of absurd in its contrast. Immediately the whole tavern becomes silent. Clearly moved by the songs tale of heartbreak and misery as he relates his terrible childhood. The song starts to pick up in tempo as he departs his village, the feeling of excitement, adventure and most of all hope for the future permeates the song. His slick voice takes on a rougher edge as the tempo continues to increase. Suddenly he stops singing and stops playing, allowing that last chord to linger in the silence for a moment. He holds his right hand high in the air, suspended before the next stroke, looks directly into the crowd and brings the hand down , hard across the strings. You see the strings glow with energy as the harsh, but invigorating sounds pours from the instrument. Louder than possible for a lute and his voices joins, equally loud, harsh and guttural. At first it seems pretty horrible to you, but then your body can feel the surge of energy, excitement and power.
The crowd erupts into cheers, hands held in the air, shaking their heads in time with the sounds. Even Volo stands up to jam…just when you think the entire tavern will explode from the energy, the bards voice returns to the soft, beautiful tones of earlier, but with a sound that invokes a happy feeling and the lute ceases its glow and the tones again smooth the savage beast that is the crowd. It was probably the most amazing thing any of you have ever heard and the crowd showered the stage with coins.
Sparhawk erupts in applause as the ale hits him, finally able to relax after such a horrible survival stint in the deadly jungle his friends and the loss of friends, his responsibility.
“and Zalkore? What was her story?”
“ The Queen Zalkore ruled many centuries ago. It was said her beauty was unmatched, on this plane or any other. Her lover, the commander of the Armies named Thiru-taya, loved her so much he had a wonderous garden built for her. Statues and carvings to try and capture the different aspects of her beautiful visiage and all of her most favored plants, flowers and creatures. The garden was called “ Ka-Nanji” or the hanging garden of dreams. Ka-Nanji was a palatial retreat from the intrigues and pressures of Omu, and the beautiful, tiered garden was praised as a worthy tribute to the queen. But, as people are won’t to do, the constant flattery seeped into her soul, like a poison of sorts. As she realized time would eventually destroy her beauty, as it does all things, she went on a secret quest you meet with a being that could possibly preserve her beauty for all time.” He sits back down and drains his cup once again.
“Ah”, the paladin nods, now quite interested, “she was too vane.”
Obviously loving telling tales, he gets right back into it.
” the being apparently granted her desire in some sort of exchange that has been lost to time as has the knowledge of what being she colluded with. It was an evil enough dead that When knowledge of her evil bargain spread through the realm, the army forced Zalkoré to abdicate and exiled her to Ka-Nanji, which became known ever after as Nangalore, the Garden of Lost Dreams. Believing that Thiru-taya was among the generals who exiled her, Zalkoré defaced all the statues and portraits of him in Nangalore. Many years later, She learned he had stayed true to her all his life, through decades of imprisonment and disgrace in Omu, only when his ashes were brought to the garden for interment, as was his dying wish. It is said she still lives in Nangalore, somehow protected from disease and time. Supposedly, Zalkoré cultivates hallucinogenic plants in the garden, because only in their narcotic, lotus dreams can she conjure up the face of her dead love. There is an incense that comes from there called Zalkores dream. It is worth a small fortune to anyone that get their hands on some. Very potent stuff.”
Frangipani listened along to the stories raising an eyebrow towards Bjorn as the last one came to an end.
Sparhawk calls over the bar tender and orders more drinks and whispers in the his ear
”please bring out a plate of un cooked fish for two.”
when it comes. He offers it to Frangipani and Lir.
"What a show! One wonders how he learned to play like that, though perhaps not enough to, ah, ask. Bad experiences with bugbears..."
Bjorn nods along as Volo describes Zalkore and her garden. "Hm. Well, one man's small fortune is another man's, uh..." He gestures vaguely, as one might swirl a glass of wine. "Anyway. Sounds like a scary person to meet if you ask me. Supposing we came across the hanging garden, I'd say we would be wise to leave before opening any large, lizard-shaped doors. Purely hypothetically, of course." It's pretty clear he feels outshined by Volo's wide knowledge and wants to make the storyteller jealous by suggesting he's seen the fabled garden.
“So Volo, in looking for this storm giants skull, are we going to upset any other storm giants, as we are digging up their ancestor and all or have we their permission?”
Sparhawk thinks for a bit, perhaps considering g what to say next.
”and, once we find this thing, what’s our next move?”
“In addition, any news from Luskin. We heard a guy named Grindall took over, and what of their wizards tower?”
Volothamp almost spills his drink before responding
“ Storms Giants are always upset at something, I am certain it is how they came to be Storm giants to begin with. It is best not to find out if they would be upset…better to ask forgiveness than permission, I would say…the getting it out of there might be a bigger challenge than finding it. Hard to know until we see just how massive it truly is. It is all very exciting”
“ I think the mighty Zaal would know a little more than myself in that regard as I believe they just got out of there in the nick of time. I try and avoid tower wizards…they are still a bit sore about my book, heh heh”
“ wise to leave the garden be, yet wisdom can sometimes be on the boring side…don’t you agree?” He smiles broadly at Bjorn, knowing for sure he is not some form of himself split off during one of his tortures during capitiviy
Lir passes the plate of raw fish to Frangipani.
“Interesting advice. Do something wrong and ask for forgiveness if you get caught.” Sparhawk frowns.
“Volo, the Baron had a way to allow us to send messages. We have some business to conclude with a wizard of the tower, is there a way to send them a message? It’s important.”
Frangipani hands back the suddenly empty plate.