# A Tale of Four Heroes



## sparxmith (Oct 30, 2003)

'Tis the night after Shieldmeet, and though four lonely travellers have had a day to rest from the revel, they seem all the more tired for it.  

An unnamed monk, from a region unknown, sits in the corner booth contemplating the journey he has just completed.  He ponders the words of prophecy uttered at his birthing, fortelling an important gathering at this simple place on this particular day. Memories of his mother oft repeating how a wise and powerful wizard appeared that day 24 years ago stir in his mind.  He is afraid, but he calms his fears.  He is the master of his soul: not the dread of the unknown that beckons it.  He wonders what is next.  He is tired from 3 ten-day's worth of walking, and hopes more walking is not what is required.  Yet Monty is resigned to his fate--whatever it may be.

At the bar, a foolhardy priest is gambling.  Rolling dice, he wagers 5 gold against 5 silver. "Faith in Lady Luck is all I need!"  he shouts as he scoops up the coins on yet another winning roll.  "Maybe next time," he taunts the losers, "ye'll learn not to bet against one who serves the Goddess Tymorra."  He laughs, knowing that he holds a special place in the Lady Luck.  He too received prophecy at his birthing.  "Forever will luck be on your side, and Fortune shall always shine upon thee,"  said the grizzled old wizard as he held the baby before its mother.  "Tell him, when he is old enough, that on the day after Shieldmeet, in the Year of Wild Magic, be in Asbravn, at the Red Dragon Tavern, if he should seek to find his destiny."  The prophecies about Ashton had proven themselves right, time and time again.  Luck was with him, so of course, he must test the Fates once again.  The had led him this far, who knew where the would lead him next.

From a table not far away, a wizard sits, watching the priest taunt the losers.  "I bet I could win that roll," he says to himself, knowing that a host of spells could determine his fortune far more accurately than just trusting in the whims of a deity. "Aye, Tymorra may bless thee, but Mystra empowers me," he says again to himself.  Always one to be wise, he says nothing aloud.  He would not seek to draw attention to himself, on a night that was foretold when he was a child.  Like all wise and intelligent men, he waits.  His mentor once took him to an inn.  When he asked "What now?"  his mentored replied, "We wait."  "For what?" came the almost immediate reply.  "For something to happen,"  said the kindly old teacher.  "How do you know something will happen?" said the impetuous youth.  "This is an inn, something aalllllwaaaayyyys happens."   Torin chuckled to himself at that thought.  His teacher had been right, that night and every night since.  Something always happens at an inn.  His teacher had been right about many things, including the importance of not disobeying prophecy.  Though Mystra may grant him power, there were other powers in Toril.  Powers that could foresee the future, even at the birth of a whelp like him.  So when the Arch-mage held took him from his mothers breast, and spirited him away to a wizards school, there was a promise of a great future, one that his mother apparently believed.  One that he'd come to believe too.

By the warmth of the hearth lies a very odd creature.  Half human, half tiger, Zerra hails from the open plains of the Shaar.  A devout warrior of Nobanion, she ha come because she too had been prophecied upon at her birthing.  Fortelling of great deeds to be done, a wise man from a distant land approached her Shaman, telling of how there are those who fight in the name and honor of Gods.  Such as this was she to be. Though she is different, few seem eager to stare.  Her aura expresses courage, her eyes sparkle with intelligence.  Boredom grows on her face, boredome laced with weariness.  "Perhaps the prophecy was wrong," she thinks as she stands to stretch her feline limbs. "Mighty Nobanion, have I been led astray?"  she prays.  "Give me wisdom, wisdom to do your will."

Just as she utters the last of the prayer under her breath, a sigil appears in the air in front of her. The same sigil appears to Torin, Monty, and to Aston as well.  But it is only Torin who recognizes the significance of the simple rune.  This was the rune of the great and mighty Elminster.

"Well met,  you four.  I'm glad to see that you've all made it," says a voice from the door of the inn.  "Come follow me, we have much to discuss," he says as he turns and walks away.


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## sparxmith (Nov 2, 2003)

"Introductions all around please.  I shall begin with myself," he says as he begins puffing on his pipe.  "I am Elminster. Some call me the Sage of Shadowdale, some call me a hero of the land, some call me a pompous prick and meddler in affairs that are none of my concern, and some call me far worse things."  He bows to the man on his right.

"Hullo all!  I'm a bit 'shamed o' me self.  I seemed to have forgot me name.  Sorry...not every day you meet a living legend," says the much younger mage, obviously flustered.  "Tis a shame upon me mother, not rememberin' the name she gave me.  Anyway, I've found it.  I'm Torin, a student of the Art, and adventurer extrordinaire," he says with a warm hearted grin.  He bows with a flourish, then inscribes his rune in the air.  

"Well, well, well!  Look what Lady Luck has gotten me into this time.  I'm Ashton, and servant of the Lady Tymora," he says as an introduction. "Thanks be to the Fates, for so noble a night as this!" he says while dancing a jig.

When the dancing ceases, the eyes of the group focus on the very beautiful woman beast who is to Ashton's right.  She notices the attention and bows uneasily.  "I am Zerra, wemic warrior from the great plains of the Shaar.  I'm a servant to the great Nobanion, Lord Firemane, King of the Beasts.  I have come far to be here, Mighty Elminster, forsaking the lands under my protection. Pray tell, what cause brings us together?"

"Let us finish introductions, Lady Zerra, and then I shall explain what I can,"  he says.  When she nods in assent, he signals Monty to begin.

"I am Monty, a simple monk."  Everyone waits a moment for him to continue, but he responds by assuming a lotus position on the ground.

"Well then," Elminster begins.  "Now that we know each other, I shall tell you of what you're all wondering.  You were all prophecied on at birth by some strange old man who said you'd do wonderful things when you grow up.  I was the man who prophecied on you.  I wanted you all to grow up believing yourselves to be capable of being great.  For as someone once said, 'Great men do great things because they first believe they are great.'  Toril is in for some cataclysmic events in the months and years to come.  Events to rival the Time of Troubles.  The Lady Mystra directed me to each of you.  You, whose hearts are noble, spirits are pure, and minds are earnest, will play some part in what is to come.  I merely needed to bring you together to accomplish it.  In one year, we shall meet again, at the Red Dragon Tavern, to discuss plans.  In that year, explore, adventure, learn, grow, and love.  Find your strength, both within yourselves and in each other.  In this forthcoming year, I only offer you this advice: do not assault the Zentarim, stay away from Szass Tam and his demonic machinations, and avoid the the Underdark, the Drow of Myth Drannor, and the Beholders.  Other than that, Toril is large.  Go out to find your fate, just return in one year.  Do any of you have any questions?"

No one said anything.  

"Lady Zerra, you still seem uncomfortable.  Is there something on your mind?" asks El.

"No, mighty Wizard.  I feel that I am here for a purpose.  That is enough for now," came the feline reply.

"Then, if no one has anything else to say or ask, I'll be off."

He waits a moment more, then vanishes as quickly as he appered.


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