Finding the Hero!

A happy moment...

It was a beautiful day in the town of Harold. Especially since today was the town’s annual spring music festival.

A band was playing in the middle of the town, playing and singing folklore songs. They were playing on the stage set up by the townspeople, with tables filled with people surrounding the stage around them. Some of the men in the crowd were laughing and singing along with the musicians, while others were talking amongst themselves and grumbling on when it was going to be over. The ladies were chatting to one another, a few chastising their children to hush up or to eat their food.

Everywhere else around the town, there was full of life and happiness. Stalls lined each of the ways toward the music, filled full with food, necklaces, bracelets, exotic fabrics and clothing, weapons for the warriors and bows for the hunters. Travelers from three towns over would often come and join in on the celebration, often times even bring their own bards to sing and play. Of course, for those who prefer more social meeting in the forms of gaming, there would be a few odd game or two of poker going in each corner of the districts. All in all, it is a joyful town, enjoying an even more joyous festival.

Some of the boys in the town have taken to the old tradition where they play a game known as “tackle ball”. One side of children would run towards one end and try and get the ball, a round, leather circle that is surprisingly bouncy, into the makeshift goal, while the other side tried to stop them. The game was rough, the side defending would be allowed to tackle and try to stop the ball handler. The ball handler was the one who was responsible to try and get the ball into the goal; they would hold onto it for dear life as he ran, his teammates running ahead and to the side to try and allow him gain ground. They switch off between offense and defense when someone knocks the ball out of the ball holders hands.

And it is here, where sweat and rough contact is a common place, where knights and guards often play this for sport, is where we find… uh, on second thought… He doesn’t appear to be here. How strange, normally it is here is where we find great heroes. After all, there are a couple of boys here who have dreams of traveling the world or becoming a great knight to protect those who haven’t the strength to that are playing right now.

Hm… perhaps we will find our hero back in town, at the festival.

After all, the concert is a good starting place for aspiring artists and ministerial. Many fabled bards and songwriters have made their start in this humble town. The two traditions of tackle ball and music have gone hand and hand for many years, sometimes both being merged together. For some, it would be their coming of age day. They would stand before an adoring audience and would play a song of their choice. There have been many songs played on the stage, from deep, heart warming serenades to lighthearted harmonies to foot stomping folk songs.

Perhaps here, where voices, woodwinds and strings meet to challenge each other with a strength of breath, beats and measures, we will find our… Oh come on! He’s not here as well? Besides these two common spots, there is really no other- Wait. There is only one other place where he could be. It’s the only logical solution left!

There is a powerful magic user who dwells deep in the woods. He usually only lives alone, however, it is rumored that once every year, he takes on an apprentice to train in the art of magic wielding. He primarily only teaches those who want to learn nature magic, but there has been a rumor that he is willing to allow curious souls to find their way with magic. Within his teaching regulation, of course.  

So perhaps now, after all the years of not realizing their potential, we could find… Uh, wait. There is the mage now; who is wearing faded brown pants and a white, dirt smudged shirt concealed by a green cloak, sitting at one of the tables with a group of older men. They appear to discussing something of great importance, with their heads low and every time someone would pass a drastic change of subject would arise. Like now, a young couple was walking on by and the men hushed up and did their own activity, from either drinking, scratching their beards or just listening to the music. The couple paid them no mind and went on into the array of tables.

After they were gone, the men resumed their conversation. They were speaking of the recent increase in bandit raids. One of the men in particular, once head of the town guards, brought up the most peculiar of topics:

“There have been more sightings of monsters prowling about the forests regions. They don’t seem to be causing trouble. However, it would be good of the guards to keep the damned things on some kind of watch,” the salt and pepper haired man growled.

This had its mix of nods and frowns in response. For the land of Arial, monsters were creatures made purely of magic. There are several different kinds of monsters: birds, beasts and many different kinds of aquatic creatures. Some take animal like appearances, while others take a hybrid form of it. These creatures are normally peaceful towards humans, unless provoked.  However, monsters have been becoming rather aggressive as of late.

There are other creatures that are similar to monsters too, but-

“Any sightings of the Leath-Rugadh?” the mage spoke to the group, silencing them instantly. Speak of the devil, I was getting to that.

The Leath-Rugadh, or the more commonly known term half born, are humanoid-like creatures half created by magic, half created by the world. These are very strange, supernatural creatures coming to three separate categories of beings: the half formed, the elven hybrids, and the weremen. The half formed are similar humans, only instead of certain limbs they instead have these weird, magical, ethereal implants. Very disturbing. The elven breeds are strong in magic and mind and have the typical pointy ears. However, there are several different kinds of elves, some even being mixed up with monsters. Lastly, there are the weremen, a group of creatures that are half man and half animal. While monsters may have an animal form fused with magic, the weremen can never take a full, animal like form, only gaining certain characteristics.

The half formed are not really known to be popular with the humans of these lands. Long ago, the Leath-Rugadh and humans fought in what was later named the War of the Broken Magi, in a purpose that was lost to time. Some say they declared war due to racism, others say it was out of revenge. The “war” was little more than six battles in one year. Each one the humans had won, and each one solidified our . Afterwards, most of the Leath Rugadh had gone into hiding, though some were kept as slaves for nobles or and the rich.

“No, there were no signs of those abominations,” the salt and peppered man answered again, his permanently scowling face turning toward the mage, “I don’t see how you can stand living out their with those cretins prowling about every corner of these islands!”

That last part was kind of loud, for it drew a few heads toward their table.

“It’s not so bad whenever you treat them with decency and minding your own business. Something you obviously need to work on. Excuse me,” the mage said, rising from the table. He made his way past the few other tables that were in his vicinity and walked down a market line. Obviously the mage would need protection and supplies for the journey into the woods, where he would encounter dangerous monsters or Leath Rugadh that... That uh...

Why do we hate the Leath Rugadh so much? I mean, I understand that we've had this shaky past with them, but does it really need to persist to this day? From what I hear the half born actually have thriving civilizations in the harsh wilderness, and some towns even welcome the strange beings. So why must we keep this hostility towards them? And furthermore, why hate these “monsters”? When I was younger, the boys and I would go into the woods and find all manner of these ‘monsters’. Some of them were docile to the point where one of the braver chaps even reached out and touched this red, flaming bunny. I remember what he said, too. “It was like putting your hand in the fire, but not burning your hand! It was… Comforting.” Of course, our parents found out. They forbade us from going out in the woods again. What I want to know, to this day, is why?

Oh, my dearest apologies reader! I'll follow him with newfound gusto!

To each side of him, stall keepers were sorting out their goods, preparing for the next wave of people. Some of the men down the line were restocking their front tables with weapons, all from small daggers to large two handed maces were being displayed on the front. Another bunch of the stalls were laying out jewelry. As the mage passed by one of these stalls, he made note that the table was lined with rather cheap jewelry, some were even fake, and the finer jewelry, like diamond necklaces, ruby and emerald rings, were displayed in the back. There were a few other stalls that displayed a few miscellaneous items, such as tools, clothes and cloths, and books of poetry and literature.

    The mage stopped at one of the stalls. The young man behind the stall, maybe in his upper twenties, was busy sharpening a dagger while whistling. There were a fine amount of well made daggers laid across the counter, and a few short swords that laid across one side that looked finer than some of the guards weapons. It is rather curious of a mage to take an interest in a weapons stall, but I have seen stranger things.

For instance, that man over yonder who is taking too much interest in that short skirt. Even the stall’s owner is starting to get confused on why he is so content on it. Is he... Glancing my way? And it seems to be that he's missing a limb and… Did I just see a little bit of wind

    Er… anyway, back to the weapons stall.

    “I never thought you would be interested in one of my daggers,” the young man said, putting the dagger back on the table, “I thought using a weapon wasn’t the mages way?”

    The mage grunted, “I don’t expect an enchanter to understand how a dagger would affect the image of a mage.”

    The young man laughed, “Aw come on! They’re not just regular daggers. They’re enchanted daggers,” he said, spreading one arm across his stall, “You could pick your poison… Literally. And, since they use magic, you’ll keep your image!”

The young man started telling the mage the different daggers his enchantments have made, from being able to extend or shrink in length to have an enchantment release a paralyzing shock through the body of the unlucky soul who touched it or - Oh forget it!

    Ugh, this has been one big waste of time. Here I was, looking for inspiration for a fine story. Maybe find some interesting looking lad while playing ball, maybe find some brute of a musician, heck I’d even go for a freaking gopher half born. Anything. Freaking. Anything. Just give me something. And I wasted the rest of my spending money on this frivolous thing too! Recording all of my thoughts onto paper, what kind of ridiculous thing like that ever- Oh, it actually has been. It even formatted it correctly… Neat.

Now, to find that damn merchant to give him a piece of my- wait… why is there a group of people coming this way. Wait, why can’t I hear the ministrals on the stage and… Did I just hear screaming just a second ago?

   Run!

    What? Where did that voice come fr- Wait, what’s that shape out in the distance? Is that aohmygodsru-