* The Bard entered the Earth and Flame by one of the secret ways that few knew of and slipped in unnoticed and unseen. The place was packed but its patrons nursed their drinks and made little conversation. Their mood was dark and somber. Blackthorn smiled one of his take-life–as–it-comes smiles and thought "I have just the story."
"He was an orphan, the very product of war, so it is no wonder, that having survived his lonely and desperate childhood, he would enter into that second oldest of professions. He became a warrior." The bard stopped and drank his ale. The crowd had fallen completely silent now, on that dangerous edge the Bard has seen so many times where they could fall over into hostility, or drop right into his hands.
"When he first came to our lands he was quite young," the Bard continued after a pause that was just long enough, "and worked to refine his skills with blade and spell. He was a Bull of a man; strong of frame and mind and eager to prove himself in battle, which he did. It did not take long before he was recognized by all as a truly exceptional warrior."
The bard smiled and pulled out his lute. His hands were eager for the strings. As he played a haunting tune, he continued. "I do not say this because he is my friend, though in fact he is, but because he has a gift for battle. An instinct honed to a fine edge upon the forge of his upbringing."
Now the people in the tavern had begun to stir a little, turing their chairs to see, muttering in what seemed pleased tones when they saw the lute. 'I have them now,' thought the Bard comfortably.
"Khalazdad recognized this gift and drew him from No Man’s Land to Necrovion. Drew him into the intrigues of that dark and accursed land, drew him into the boiling conflict of war where his particular talents would be put to good use. Indeed he fought, and won, many skirmishes for the Sentinels. There the warrior became a leader. There in that hard land the man learned many hard lessons under the tutelage of its master; Khalazdad.
"But memories of his childhood began to haunt him, drive him, eat at him like a dog gnaws at a bone. He saw a war coming that would tear his adopted home apart. 'The memories of a man in his old age are the deeds of a man in his prime' - he often says this about those dark days and little else. But this I know. He made a choice, perhaps the most difficult of his life. He chose not to fight for this land he so loved but to help all the people of the realm avoid the bloody devastations of war. In so choosing, he became more than a warrior.
"He became a champion.
"Such choices are not without consequence. And so it was that the Lion found himself cast-out from his own pride. Equally shunned by those who had once called him brother and by those he had once stood against, he made his way to Marinds Bell and spent his days training and teaching in the dojo. There he found a new path to follow; the Elephant Dance. It is said: that to whom much is given, much is also required. And so while suffering the constant barbs of persecution he continued to freely give all he could to those that applied for his help."
Now the Bard began to strum on his instrument, not accompanyment exactly but just the soothing sound of notes happening. The customers of the tavern had fallen now, fallen into his spell.
He continued:
"It was around this time that I invited him to join me in Loreroot. Nelya Setesh warmly welcomed him and for a season he stayed with the Guardians of the Root, became one of us. Here in the depths of the forest he found a happiness he had not known before. Love, marriage, children; blessings he had never dreamed he would know. Here he stayed and raised his sons with the love and support he himself had lacked. Here he found friendship freely given, and the admiration of all. Quickly he rose to be a member of the High Council of Loreroot and humbly served its people.
"The Root found fertile soil within his soul and his awareness began to grow. He saw the truth of things that had once confused him. He found the truth of his own existence and within that truth he found…… Balance.
"'Balance above all,' he said to his friend Khalazdad.
"Khalazdad looked at his former captain with something bordering on rage. 'This is the path you have chosen?' He cursed. 'Balance?'
"'It is,' said King Bull. Khalazdad had once seemed so much more intimidating, but now something had changed. It took a moment for him to see that it was not Khalazdad who had changed, but himself. He was no longer content to follow other men. He would set his own course; hold fast to his own truth. At last he had found a battle worth the fighting.
"'You will not shake me from this. I will serve Necrovion, but only by maintaining the Balance. This is the only treaty I will make and it will be the same for all the other alliances, I will fight with those who seek to keep the Balance, and decimate all those who would destroy it.' As he said this, King Bull looked directly into the eyes of his former master, they stood there the two of them locked in a wordless struggle, but it was Khalazdad that turned away first.
"Khalazdad knew, like a father knows, that there was nothing he could say or do to change what he saw in those eyes. But then he knew of another Principle; Time.
"Time had a way of eroding even a will as stubborn as King Bull’s. Khalazdad had always been a patient man.
"'So you call yourselves the Knights of Necrovion?"' he slapped his friend on the back and smiled. 'Good name; a dark name. Wish I had thought of it.'"
BlackThorn set down his lute. This tale was at its end, but the story of King Bull was far from complete. The Bard of Loreroot knew there would be many more chapters yet to come. Lifting his glass the Bard toasted his friend, "To King Bull and the Knights of Necrovion. Balance above all."
The Bard did not pay for any of his own refreshments that night, and surely the turn of his leg was noticed by the tavern girls.
Many hours later a shadow passed into the depths of the Weald. Blackthorn had slipped out of the Earth and Flame leaving its patrons with wine flowing and songs singing. His business this night was far from over. Many had heard his story and their mood had lightened. Suddenly the world was not so dark a place, if a Lion of Necrovion could return home stronger and wiser for the journey. He would champion the Balance and ensure that the realm would not fall into a war from which none would survive. He would gather together Knights from all the lands of the realm. People like himself that would put the interests of the Realm before the interests of their own lands or even themselves. The Bard's smile was lost in the darkness of the Weald, "comfort and stability coming from Necrovion. Who would have thought it Possible?"
